


Lost in Darkness

by SunnySidesofBlue



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Dominance, F/M, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Rape, Sadism, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySidesofBlue/pseuds/SunnySidesofBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an accident on the battlefield Chromia finds herself in the clutches of the Decepticon second in command. Now she has to fight with everything she has and is to resist her captor's attempts at breaking her and to keep her mind intact in the process. Starscream, however, does not fight fairly...</p><p>Very dark fic, but with a light at the end of the tunnel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill, originally posted here: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/9338.html?thread=8192634#t8192634
> 
> This fic is long, dark and has a lot of triggery content, so please heed the warnings. I will post additional warnings when a certain chapter calls for them.
> 
> Huge thanks to the ever wonderful Jarakrisafis for being my beta on this.

Starscream was, for once, feeling very content. True, they had lost the skirmish and failed to get the factory back under Decepticon control and Megatron was in a foul mood, but for the moment none of this concerned the air commander.  
  
He had caught a prize of his own.  
  
His two wing mates entered the room holding the furiously struggling prisoner between them and Starscream couldn't help smiling at the sight of the headstrong femme SIC. Apart from her collar shield missing and a few scorch marks she seemed to be unharmed and was obviously fit for fighting. This would be so much fun.  
  
Chromia wanted nothing more than to pound that smirk from her enemy's lip plates, but quite apart from the two seekers holding her arms her hands were tightly restrained behind her back and the gag stopped her from even hurling insults at them. She had to settle for glares.  
  
“Well, well, well, look who's deigned to pay us a visit,” the red and white seeker said, letting his gaze sweep appreciatively over the lithe blue frame of his prisoner. “It's not every day we have such fine company.”  
  
He took a step forward and removed the gag, stroking a finger over her cheek as he did so. Chromia snapped at it, just barely missing.  
  
“My, my, a feisty little thing,” the air commander said with a smirk,. ”Good, I like a fighting spirit.”  
  
“You will let me go at once, Starscream, or so help me Primus, you'll regret it,” the Autobot officer snarled.  
  
“Will I, now?” the white and red seeker said. “And why would that be? You think your friends would risk sending a rescue team right into the middle of Kaon to retrieve you? Or were you referring to your red oaf of a bondmate?”  
  
Chromia scowled but didn't dignify him with an answer. She knew she was in a tight spot and cursed herself three times over for being caught off guard and captured. Unfortunately the air commander had been correct in saying it was highly unlikely that the Autobots would come for her, even if her location were known to them. Kaon was a veritable death trap in the middle of enemy territory, an area that even the special ops teams had trouble penetrating, and she understood just as well as anybody the necessity to put the need and safety of the many in front of those of one single bot.  
  
There was of course the chance – or risk, depending on how you looked at it – that her bondmate might try something on his own once he found out, and that possibility worried her. No matter how much she loved him she was the first to admit that subtlety was not one of Ironhide's virtues. No way he'd be able to get within10 miles of any Decepticon stronghold without being spotted and she hoped and prayed he wouldn't be foolish enough to try.  
  
“So...” Starscream said, catching her chin and forcing her to look him in the optics, “question is, what shall I do with you now that you're here?”  
  
She met his steady gaze with her own, maintaining a stoic face even though his touch and the feeling of his EM field mingling with her own made her positively sick. Skywarp snickered as he felt the slight stiffening of her posture, prompting an annoyed look on the air commander's face.  
  
“You two can let go of her and leave now,” the tricoloured seeker said curtly to his two wingmates, releasing his grip on the blue femme and stepping back a few paces.  
  
Thundercracker and Skywarp shot each other a glance of disappointment. How typical of Starscream to keep all the fun for himself. Ah well, wouldn't be the first time they'd had to settle for the left-overs.  
  
“You're sure?” Thundercracker asked. “She's a handful.”  
  
“Yeah,” Skywarp quickly cut in, suddenly looking hopeful, “we really wouldn't mind helping out.”  
  
Starscream snorted at that.  
  
“The day I can't handle a restrained femme is the day I retire and start running freight service. And you can count yourselves lucky that I'm not giving you double shifts for your insolence! Now get out!” 

The two seekers did as told, shoved their prisoner to the floor in front of their commander and then left the room.  
  
Chromia got back up as fast as she could. Unarmed and without the use of her hands she was already at a serious disadvantage and lying on the floor would do nothing to improve her already miserable odds, but she'd be damned if she gave in without a fight. To her surprise Starscreeam did nothing to stop her and once she stood firmly on her pedes again she gave her enemy a suspicious look. Suspicion soon turned to defiance as a predatory smirk made its way onto Starscream's faceplates. She braced herself as he slowly began moving towards her.  
  
“This'll be so much fun,” he said, once again eyeing her from helm to pedes. “It's been ages since I last had a femme.”  
  
Chromia stepped to the side, trying to maintain the distance between them without backing herself into a corner.  
  
“You'll find that this femme isn't so easily “had”, Starscream,” she retorted, pushing back any fear she might have felt behind a mask of defiant anger.  
  
The seeker's grin widened even further.  
  
“Oh, is that so...”  
  
She didn't even see him move. Before she had any chance to react she was slammed face first against the wall and the very next thing she knew were the seeker's hands groping her frame.  
  
“Get your hands off me!” she spat, trying to wriggle away but found herself trapped between the wall and her enemy's larger frame. The heat radiating from him and the waves of lust emitted through his EM field made her shiver in disgust.  
  
“You know, I don't think I will,” he whispered into her audio, sweeping his glossa over the receiver in a gesture of mock tenderness. With one hand he stroked lightly over her chest while the other one sought its way down her abdomen and in between her thighs. A thoroughly sadistic smile spread across his faceplates as he felt her tensing at the touch. He let his first hand join the other, slowly and deliberately pressing his fingers into the armour seams between the struggling femme's hip and pelvic armour.  
  
Using what little space there was to gain momentum Chromia slammed her helm backwards with all the force she could muster and felt a grain of satisfaction as Starscream cursed and stepped back half a pace. Tearing herself to the side she managed to get out of his half-embrace and made for the door, not really hoping to be able to get out but wanting to at least to put some distance between herself and the seeker. Distance meant better manoeuvrability, which in turn meant some chance of self defence. Her hands may be bound, but perhaps...  
  
That was as far as she got. A hand caught one of her arms in an iron grip, pulling her back with a force that made her completely lose her equilibrium. For a short while she didn't know which way was up, then she was forcefully enlightened as her face and chest connected with the top of Starscream's workbench with a loud crash. Pedes still on the floor she made an attempt to straighten up, only to be roughly pushed back down by the neck. Once again she felt the overwhelming EM field of the Decepticon SIC encase her and knew she was lost.  
  
“That,” the tricoloured seeker growled, “was not very nice.” He pressed one of his knees in between her legs, forcing them apart. “But if you want to go for rough I'll be more than happy to oblige!”  
  
Chromia twisted and wriggled in his grip, spitting curses and invectives, but couldn't push him away no matter how hard she tried. Suddenly one of his hands was between her thighs again, this time forcibly retracting her interface cover. She winced but determinedly held back the plea for him to stop that instinctively rose to her vocaliser, knowing it would do little but further encouraging the vile mech behind her. She didn't want to give him that satisfaction.  
  
Very much enjoying the sight and the feel of the squirming frame in front of him, Starscream released the clasps of his own interface cover, panel obligingly sliding back to reveal his by now fully pressurised spike. He smiled again, a cold, cruel smile, relishing the thought of many pleasurable hours to come. 

Then he lined the flared head of his spike up against the rim of his prisoner's valve. He made a pause for effect, giving the Autobot just enough time to realise he was going to enter her without any preparation or lubrication, then slammed himself in, burying his member to the hilt within his unwilling partner.  
  
Despite all her determination not to, Chromia screamed and her frame shook in a violent spasm as sheer, excruciating pain tore through her. It wasn’t only the all too sudden stretching or the rough friction against very sensitive sensor nodes – which certainly would have been bad enough on its own - but the completely unlubricated entry, bare metal against metal, sent sparks crackling all over the mesh lining of her valve, burning and stinging like a corrosive acid.  
  
Those very same sparks sent a tingling buzz through Starscream's spike and made him moan in pleasure. The feeling of the valve around him, clenching reflexively in an attempt to expel the unwanted intruder, was almost enough to make him overload on the spot. Somehow, though, he managed to hold back. He wanted to draw this out, take his time to thoroughly enjoy the pain, the hatred and the helplessness of his victim.  
  
Still buried deep within her he bent forward, letting most of his weight rest on the slender frame beneath him. Producing an uplink cable from his chest he connected it to the medical port in Chromia's neck. He felt her jolt at the contact, but her processor was still too dazed with pain to be able to put up much resistance. Starscream blasted through her first set of firewalls in no time. Not bothering to try accessing her data banks – they'd be protected by separate, far stronger firewalls, and data wasn't really what he was after anyway – he went straight for her somatic centre, isolated it and put up firewalls of his own around it, making sure she wouldn't be able to shut it down. Next he located the subroutine that would allow her systems to automatically shut down if subjected to too much sensory input, deactivated it and raised another set of firewalls around it. He could feel her attempts at blocking him and echoes of her anger and frustration when the pain impulses from her abused valve robbed her of focus and prevented her from doing so. The pure, unadulterated but essentially powerless hatred she directed at him was simply delicious. Disconnecting the cable he lowered his helm and pressed a sloppy kiss over the port.  
  
“There,” he whispered into her audio, “now that I know you won't be spoiling my fun...”  
  
Placing a tight grip on her pinioned arms just to add to the discomfort he pushed himself up and almost all the way out of her, noticing with glee a faint trace of pink coating his spike. Something had been ruptured, but not too badly. Perfect.  
  
Chromia bit her lower lip defiantly but couldn't help emitting a keening sound when Starsream's spike once again scraped against her nodes. Without the viscous, semi-conductive lubricant that would cover them during a consensual, aroused interface the sensors registered both pressure and friction sixfold, making such direct contact - and the sparks it generated - nearly unbearable. Obviously, the seeker didn't care. Upon hearing the half-stifled groan he grinned maliciously and thrust himself back in, hard. The femme's frame convulsed again, and even though she did manage to hold back the scream this time the effort it took her was more than obvious from her tightly balled fists and ragged, laboured intakes.  
  
Starscream repeated the move, pulling out slowly and then slammed full force into his victim again. And again. And again. And again.  
  
Chromia felt as if she was being split in two, her entire abdomen ablaze with a white-hot fire. She had tried to kick him at first but every little movement hurt so much that she'd had to stop. Never in her life had she felt anything even remotely like this and somewhere in her pain-riddled processor she realised that she should probably have been unconscious by now if it wasn't for Starscream's hacking of her sensory systems. How she wished to go under, to escape from the pain into blissful darkness, but Starscream's barriers left her no possibilities to do so.

A particularly vicious stroke drew a whimper from her vocaliser, even though she'd bit her lip hard enough to draw energon to keep silent. If she was helpless to stop him she could at least deprive him the pleasure of hearing her scream and beg.  
  
Or so she'd hoped.  
  
Starscream, knowing exactly how excruciating a forced interface was, was actually surprised and – though he'd never admit it – a little impressed that she hadn't screamed after the first penetration. Watching her fight to control herself had been amusing for a while, but now it was time to up the ante and show this little Autobot who was in charge.  
  
With one hand firmly on the small of her back, his other one suddenly grabbed the blue femme by the throat and pulled, forcing her to arch back painfully against him, allowing him to delve even deeper into her. At the same time he increased the speed of his thrusts, and this time it had the desired effect. A choked cry escaped his prisoner's delectable lip components and he could see tears forming at the slits of her firmly shuttered optics.  
  
“That's it, my dear, keep screaming,” he moaned, voice uncharacteristically low and reeking with lust. “You can try to hold back all you want, but before I'm through with you your vocaliser will have burned out.”  
  
Shaking her head as best she could with his iron grip around her throat Chromia tried to utter a protest but instead cried out again as he tugged hard at her neck and pulled her tighter against him. A wave of utter hatred and revulsion rushed through her, echoing across her EM-field, and that finally pushed Starsream over the edge. With one last violent thrust he overloaded, coating Chromia's battered valve with his transfluids.  
  
The blue femme sagged and shuddered in disgust as she felt the seeker release his load deep within her. Although the release in itself added no further physical pain – in fact the fluids felt a bit soothing against her sore nodes, though she hated to admit it – it hurt all the more on the emotional plane. She wouldn't even want to carry one of Starscream's spare parts in her hand, let alone hold his vile transfluid in her valve, but he had given her no choice and no chance of a fight. Bad enough that he would twist such a beautiful thing as interfacing into this brutal display of humiliation and domination, but the fact that he so openly relished the suffering he was causing was what sickened Chromia the most.  
  
At long last the seeker pulled himself out, eliciting a gasp only poorly contained by clenched dentae. For a moment she simply lay there, bent over his workbench, and tried to summon the will to move, dreading the pain in her abdomen would make it impossible. Starscream solved the dilemma for her by grabbing one of her aching arms and pulling her up on her pedes, provoking another sharp intake as the movement jarred her overtaxed sensory net. When he released his grip Chromia found her legs refusing to support her and she promptly collapsed on the floor, fighting the urge to scream as waves of pain spread through her frame like rings on water. Everything hurt and it took all her strength just to keep breathing.  
  
The Decepticon SIC looked down at his plaything with amusement in his optics and a smirk on his lip plates.  
  
“Well, my dear, that was nice, wasn't it?” he said in a tauntingly casual tone as he wiped his spike and retracted it behind his panel. “I hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was for me.”  
  
If looks could kill, the Decepticon army would certainly have been an officer short that very moment. Chromia's optics were burning with hatred as she looked up at her tormentor but she said nothing, knowing all too well that whatever she said would only be turned back at her. Furthermore she feared that her voice would reveal exactly how weak, how much in pain she was, though she could see in his optics that Starscream knew perfectly well already and took great delight in it. 

Pulling the gag he'd removed from her earlier from subspace he bent down and firmly shoved it back into her mouth, nearly making her choke. Finally he placed a kiss on her silenced lips, then rose to his pedes and turned to leave. Before he passed through the door he turned around and gave the blue femme a last, dark smile, already planning how he would continue his game next time he was off shift.  
  
“Sweet dreams, my dear,” he said sarcastically. “Get some rest while you can, I'll be seeing you again shortly.”  
  
With that he cut the lights and left the room.


	2. Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guest appearances by Skywarp and Thundercracker. No additional warnings for this chapter except for general helplessness.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are much appreciated.

Once Starscream had disappeared through the door, leaving her alone and in complete darkness, Chromia finally allowed her mask of stoicism to fall. With a grimace she shuttered her optics and let her helm sink down to rest on the floor. She lay on her side, upper body twisted slightly downward, and the position was if not comfortable then at least bearable. Most importantly, it put no further strain on her pinned, aching arms or her throbbing abdomen.  
  
It took almost ten minutes of total stillness before she was able to properly focus on anything beyond the pain. One of the first things that caught her attention was the feeling of something seeping out of her still uncovered valve and running down her thigh - transfluid, energon or probably a mix of the two. The fact that she was uncovered made her feel horribly exposed, but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to close the panel and thereby trap the rest of the fluids inside of her. It all made her feel filthy and she would have given anything – well, maybe not anything but quite a lot – for a tour to the wash racks to rid herself of every trace of the seeker’s abuse.  
  
Then she turned her focus to the firewalls Starscream had set up around her somatic centre. If only she could get through them she would at least be able to shut down the sensors that kept feeding her with an endless stream of pain impulses. Of course shutting down the sensors would do nothing to repair the injuries, and medics always advised against messing with your sensory net because it gave a false sense of being in a better condition than you really were, but right then and there Chromia couldn’t have cared less. Her efforts proved to be in vain, though. She couldn’t find the slightest usable flaw in his coding, nor could she get through with sheer brute force. Cursing the Decepticon SIC to the depths of the Pit for the umpteenth time she gave up. It disturbed her to be forced to admit defeat. Not being in control was one of the worst things she knew and Starscream’s… actions had not only deprived her of any control of her situation, she was not even in complete charge of her own frame anymore. The restraints, the gag, the transfluid, the firewalls, they all stood out in her mind like flags of an invading army, reminding her that he had staked a claim on her and that he had won.  
  
No.  
  
She stopped that line of thought before it could take hold. No, Starscream had not won, not yet. He had hurt her and bruised her, yes, but he had not broken her. She was not yet prepared to just lie down and take whatever he threw at her. She would fight and she would survive. As long as there was any chance to get out of this, however small, she would keep fighting.  
  
She felt a slight tug at her spark and instantly knew her bondmate had found out that she’d been reported missing in action. Although the bond didn’t allow them any advanced level of communication, really strong bursts of emotion would usually be felt by the other even if they had temporarily shielded their sparks. Most bonded pairs dampened the bond when in battle, not to risk distracting the other in a critical moment if something happened. Chromia had kept her end of the bond firmly closed ever since her capture and all the way through the rape, but the barriers had begun to crumble towards the end and now she finally took them down altogether and allowed herself to be swept up in the wave of _relief-love-worry_ that instantly flowed from Ironhide’s spark. When everything was calm around them they could communicate like this, by sending echoes of their emotions. It had saved both of them more than once, sharing strength in seemingly hopeless situations. 

She replied with _love-reassurance-fatigue_ and couldn’t help some of her pain leaking through as well. There was an immediate reaction of _concern-protectiveness-anger_ , followed by _determination-love_. Her own fear that he might do something rash took the shape of _love-worry-protectiveness_ and that was answered by a wave of _amusement-frustration-reassurance,_ followed once again by _protectiveness-love_.  
  
In spite of her dire situation, Chromia smiled a little. The warmth of her bondmate’s feelings seemed to take the edge off her pain, helped her to relax and realise just how exhausted she was. The battle earlier today had been hard, and even though she’d managed to keep herself running on stress-induced energy and sheer willpower ever since, the hardships of the day were finally taking their toll.  
  
Returning a pulse of _gratefulness-love_ over the bond she finally allowed herself to power down and enter a much needed recharge.  
  
***  
  
In spite of his promise – or threat – Starscream didn’t return that day and when Chromia finally came back online she was surprised to notice that she had actually been allowed almost 18 hours of undisturbed recharge. Her internal repair systems had put the time to good use; her abdomen still hurt but it was now a dull ache rather than blazing agony and she discovered that she could move if she was careful. As she shifted her legs she could feel dried stains of energon and transfluids coating the inside of her thighs and made a face, but closed her panel, knowing that it would make no real difference to keep it open anymore. Besides, she felt a lot less exposed once properly covered.  
  
Her shoulders were hurting quite a lot, though, which wasn’t really all that surprising considering that her arms had now been locked in the same position – and an uncomfortable one to begin with at that – for almost an entire day cycle. She was also fairly certain that a couple of relays in her right shoulder joint had been torn sometime during yesterday’s fighting, though she had obviously been too occupied to notice at the time.  
  
She managed to get up on her knees, though the effort made her feel slightly dizzy. As soon as she checked her energy levels she understood why – they were all well below 10%. Again, not very surprising, but a problem nonetheless. If they dropped below 5% she would lose all motor control, leaving her conscious but completely vulnerable, and below 2% she’d go into stasis. Not something she was looking forward to.  
  
Suddenly she heard footsteps outside the door and steeled herself for another confrontation with her abuser, but to her surprise – though hardly relief – it wasn’t Starscream who entered. It was Thundercracker and Skywarp.  
  
“So, our pretty little prisoner is awake,” Thundercracker said with a smile that did not quite match his commander’s in unpleasantness but came very close. “Had a pleasant recharge?”  
  
The question was obviously rhetorical since she was still gagged and had no possible way of answering - not to mention the quite obvious fact that spending 18 hours lying on a hard floor, unable to move and in pain would hardly fit anyone’s definition of “pleasant” – but the scowl she gave him was telling enough. Skywarp chuckled.  
  
“I don’t think she likes you, TC,” he said teasingly to his wingmate, who snorted and smacked the black and purple seeker on the back of the helm.  
  
“Well, I can’t hear her singing love songs for you either, ‘Warp,” he said, ignoring Skywarp’s exaggerated _ouch!_ “Besides, why should I give a flying frag about what she thinks of me?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” the younger seeker replied, holding up his hand in a disarming gesture. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” 

He walked over to the Autobot femme and hauled her up harshly, making her trip forward and end up more or less hanging by her pinioned arms in his grip. Chromia snarled at him through the gag but suddenly gave a yelp of pain as she felt something snap in her damaged shoulder when he began dragging her towards the door. She tried to get to her pedes but the angle at which he held her made it quite impossible and she screamed into the gag in angry frustration.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘get it over with’?” Thundercracker said as he grabbed Chromia’s other arm, not caring about her obvious discomfort. ”You sound as if this is some kind of punishment.”  
  
“Well, it is, isn’t it?” Skywarp pouted. “I mean, it’s just like giving a hungry mech a cube of high-grade and then say ‘you can watch and smell, but not drink’. Or did you hear something I didn’t? Because ‘take her to the wash racks, clean her up, get her some energon, secure her in Screamer’s quarters, no punching and no fragging’ sounds pretty much like a slagging punishment to me!”  
  
Chromia tried to pretend she hadn’t heard the seeker’s tirade. Getting clean and refuelled would be wonderful, but at the hands of Starscream’s sidekicks… not so much. And she didn’t like the “secured in Starscream’s quarters” part one bit. It didn’t make things any better when Thundercracker gave a sardonic laugh.  
  
“My dear Skywarp, you really are remarkably dense at times,” the blue seeker chuckled. “Sure, we’re not allowed to ‘face her, but there are other ways to have fun. You just have to be a little… creative.”  
  
That remark made the energon in her lines freeze as her processor conjured up a dozen possible interpretations. Whatever the blue seeker had in mind Chromia felt sure it would be humiliating and unpleasant for her. And if they were anything like their commander they probably got off on that, too, the slaggers! She couldn’t see their facial expressions but she heard Skywarp’s engines rev and felt a sudden flash of anticipation through his EM field.  
  
The very same moment a new warning blinked on her HUD:  
  
 ** _Energy levels at 6%, immediate refuelling advised._**  
  
 _Oh really, thanks for telling me!_ she mentally growled at the display.  
  
This was so not good.  
  
***  
  
It only took them a couple of minutes more to get to the wash racks, but for Chromia it felt like an eternity. When they finally dropped her, making her chest and face hit the floor hard since she couldn’t break the fall, she wasn’t sure what she felt more, anger for their carelessness or relief that they weren’t straining her shoulders any longer. Whichever, she wasn’t allowed to dwell on it for too long before they hauled her up again, this time to her pedes.  
  
“All right, ‘Warp, get behind her and hold her, I’ll show you how this game is played,” Thundercracker said with a lewd grin on his faceplates.  
  
It took the black and purple seeker all of 1.3 seconds to comply.  
  
“Shall I release her arms?” he asked his blue counterpart as said mech collected a hose, some cleansing solvent and a few cloths.  
  
“Sure, why not?” Thundercracker replied. “Shouldn’t make much difference after all that time in chains, but it might add some fun. Will make it more interesting to arrange her, too.”  
  
Chromia’s optics flared with fury as the blue mech grabbed her and held her firmly against his chest while Skywarp fiddled with the cuffs.  
  
 _Stop talking about me as if I were some slagging_ object _!_ she wanted to scream, but the gag filtered it down to a mere series of grunts. Instead she kicked and wriggled like a landed fish, trying to tear herself free of the seeker’s embrace. She knew deep within that it was useless, a waste of energy she badly needed for other purposes, but at the moment she couldn’t care less. All she wanted was to _hurt_ these fraggers, somehow score one single point in balance of all the slag they were dragging her through.  
  
 ** _Warning: energy levels at 5%, initiating motoric powerdown._**  
  
 _No!_  
  
Her arms finally came free, only to sink uselessly to her sides. Even if she’d had full motoric control she probably wouldn’t have been able to use her arms for a while yet, just as Thundercracker had said, but the timing still seemed cruel. 

The blue mech stared at his prisoner in surprise when she suddenly stopped fighting and sagged in his arms. For a second he thought she had given up and decided to willingly submit to them, which really would have taken all the fun out of this, but then he saw the still burning animosity in her optics and realised what had happened.  
  
“Well, seems someone was even more depleted than I thought,” Thundercracker said with a grin and let Chromia’s motionless frame sink down on the floor. “How convenient.”  
  
“How much time do you think we’ve got before she goes into stasis?” Skywarp asked, quickly grasping the situation. “I’d really hate to have to drag her down to medical for reactivation, they never keep quiet and Screamer would certainly hear of it.”  
  
“I can’t say I’m that familiar with her kind of frame, but at least an hour, probably more.”  
  
Skywarp’s vindictive smile threatened to cleave his face in two and Chromia once again felt that infuriating feeling of absolute helplessness jarring her spark.  
  
“Good,” the darker seeker said, voice full of anticipation. “Then we can be quite… thorough, I hope? After all, it’ll probably be the only chance we get with her.”  
  
“Quite so. And Starscream _did_ order us to take good care of her; we wouldn’t like to disappoint him, now would we?”  
  
Skywarp merely laughed at that and then turned his full attention to the unmoving frame on the floor.  
  
Chromia felt a wave of despair when she realised she could still feel their hands on her frame as they positioned her in a full spread-eagle on the floor. Wouldn’t she be granted even that relief? Normally only your core systems, optics, audios and vocaliser remained online when you entered preservation mode. Her sense of touch should have been deactivated along with her motor control, but it seemed as if Starscream’s hacking had messed with those commands and her entire sensory net remained online.  
  
It didn’t take the two seekers long to figure this out, prompting even wider grins.  
  
Then it began.  
  
***  
  
She lay curled up on a recharge pad, presumably Starscream’s, shivering with impotent rage and trying very hard to resist the urge to purge her tanks in disgust. She needed the energy and Primus knew how long it would be until she was refuelled again. Her wrists were cuffed once more, though not behind her this time, and chained to a ring welded to the head end of the berth. She was shiningly clean but had never felt more sullied in her life.  
  
True to their orders Thundercracker and Skywarp had done nothing to cause her physical injury and none of them forced a full interface, but that was also just about the only things they hadn’t done. Ghost feelings of their hands exploring her frame still lingered, touches that were never kind and never innocent, whether disguised as part of the cleaning process or not.  
  
She tried to push the memories away, but they kept returning to her again and again:  
  
Skywarp retracting her interface cover, putting the mouth of the hose against the rim of her valve and flooding her with ice cold water, all the while “shining” her thighs and moaning loudly as she screamed into the gag.  
  
Thundercracker straddling her, grinding his bared interface against her and pressing his lips against hers or whispering about all the things they were going to do to her if she was still alive by the time Starscream got tired of her.  
  
Herself lying draped over Skywarp, her hips held up by his bent knees, while Thundercracker meticulously polished her intimate hardware.  
  
Their looks of gloating delight and the waves of lust pulsing through their EM-fields as they used her unresisting hands to pump their rigid members to completion, groaning in pleasure.  
  
And then, when they’d been done with the cleaning part – and getting themselves off - they hadn’t even bothered locating the hatch of her auxiliary tank, which was the usual way of refuelling a bot in stasis or preservation mode. Instead they’d stuck a funnel in her mouth and poured energon down her throat. Since she couldn’t swallow properly due to her temporary paralysis they’d kept squeezing her throat to make the lines contract enough to drag the liquid down. It had taken them almost a quarter of an hour to force one single ration into her and she had felt like choking the entire time.  
  
And all the way through there had been absolutely nothing she could do to stop them.

Chromia had always been a proud bot, not conceited or arrogant but confident in herself. She was intelligent and physically strong and drew mental strength from the knowledge that her skills would allow her to deal with most challenges put in her way.  
  
And this was why the seekers’ humiliation hurt so much. They put her in a situation where all those skills and abilities meant nothing at all. Every time they touched her against her will it made her feel weak, gave her the feeling of having failed, and personal failure was one of the few things Chromia couldn’t really deal with. You succeeded or you died trying, that was basically her modus operandi. Ironhide was the same, which was one of the reasons they fitted so perfectly together.  
  
She swore in frustration and shifted positions slightly. Intellectually she knew that all this degradation was part of their attempts to break her and that she wouldn’t have truly let herself or her faction down unless she willingly submitted to them. Unfortunately, intellectual and logical arguments did very little to rid her of the sense of defilement and failure.  
  
Shuttering her optics she once again allowed herself to be swept up by the feeling of the bond. At least that was something they couldn’t take away from her. She didn’t actively communicate this time, only basked in the ever present stream of love, devotion, strength and trust. As always it helped her to relax, strengthened her resolve and made her feel blessedly _complete_.  
  
Unfortunately the peace didn’t last.  
  
Not even half an hour later the door opened and the very last mech in the universe she wanted to see entered the room.  
  
“Good evening, my dear,” Starscream said, eyeing the impeccable figure that was chained to his berth with approval. “Missed me?”


	3. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is back for round two.

Chromia immediately pushed herself off the berth and onto her pedes. Moving still hurt quite a lot but she ignored that; she was _not_ going to just stay on that berth and wait for him to have his way with her again! The chain, being no longer than her lower arm, didn’t allow her much freedom of movement but she entered a fighting stance anyway.  
  
Starscream chuckled at her manoeuvre. As if that was going to help her in the slightest!  
  
“Tut, tut, that’s no way to welcome your host back home,” he said in a slightly chiding voice, as if he were addressing a sparkling with poor manners.  
  
“Host, my aft!” the blue femme spat, tugging defiantly at the restraints even though she already knew they were beyond her ability to break. “Go throw yourself in a smelter, Starscream! That way you might actually turn into something useful.”   
  
The Decepticon officer, taking her taunt for exactly what it was, merely kept approaching with his ever-present smirk plastered all over his face. He appreciated her defiance; it made this little game of his so much more entertaining.   
  
As soon as he was within range Chromia lashed out with one of her pedes, directing a powerful kick at his abdomen. To her surprise and annoyance Starscream only made a slight evasive manoeuvre then grabbed her ankle and twisted it. She was forced to follow the movement and promptly lost her balance. Before she could hit the floor, though, the seeker was upon her, hauled her up and then slammed her down on top of the berth. He effectively kept her in place by straddling her while he pushed her arms back above her helm and used a special hook to fasten her cuffs directly to the welded ring, leaving her arms practically no wriggle room at all. She kicked and bucked, trying to throw him off, but he was simply too heavy.  
  
 _Slag it all to the pit, he’s just_ playing _with me!_ Chromia realised as she tried to analyse what had just happened. She had never really been in close combat with the air commander before – he was a flier after all, and those tended to attack from a distance – and was amazed by how fast and strong he had proven to be. Most aerial models were so specialized for flight that they tended to be fairly slow, on the weak side and even a bit clumsy in their root mode. Obviously Starscream had been very shrewd with any modifications he’d made to his frame and somehow managed to optimise both modes.  
  
“There,” Starscream said as he finished with the chains. ”Now, what shall I do with you now that I have your full attention?”  
  
His ruby optics were glimmering with intent and he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was still kicking and squirming underneath him. Bending forward until their faces were only inches apart, letting his chest rest heavily against hers, he pinned her elbows down with his own and placed his hands on her helm. As soon as he was close enough Chromia tried to head butt him but this time the seeker had prepared for that eventuality and his hands stopped the movement before it could even begin. She spat another series of curses at him but was silenced when he pressed his lips against hers in a fierce but decidedly one-sided kiss.   
  
How she detested the feeling of his lips against hers! Hmpf-ing in protest Chromia tried to bite him but couldn’t move her helm enough to reach his lips with her dentae.  
  
Starscream drew the kiss out, taking his time to relish both the taste of her and the fact that she was shaking with fury at his invasion of her frame and person. No words could describe the kick he got from having a strong victim so completely at his mercy, from seeing them fight with all their might to defy him until they finally broke at his hands.  
  
It was the ultimate aphrodisiac, stronger than any chemical substance in the galaxy. 

At long last he broke the kiss and straightened himself up. As soon as he pulled back Chromia spat at his face, both as a gesture of contempt and to rid herself of the taste of him. She knew that in her situation it wasn’t really a good idea to antagonise him but she had no other way of fighting back and refused to give him the impression that she had succumbed to his will, be it under pain of death.  
  
“I really should do something about that insolent mouth of yours,” Starscream said neutrally as he wiped the string of oral lubricant from his cheek. Then he looked for one moment at his stained fingers and suddenly his frown turned into a shrewd smile. He inched himself forward until his codpiece was nearly touching Chromia’s chin, and his smile widened even further when he saw the blue femme’s lips turn into a thin line as she clamped her jaws shut, clearly having no disillusions about what the seeker had in mind.  
  
She was only partly correct.  
  
“Now, I’m going to give you a chance to influence things proceed tonight,” he said, his ruby optics locking on to her sapphire ones. “I really wouldn’t mind claiming your pretty little mouth completely but I know you’d bite me no matter what I threaten you with right now, so instead the deal is this: You will lick me, coat my spike with your oral lubricant, or I’ll take you dry again.”  
  
The look on the Autobot’s face told him she’d realised exactly what kind of a choice he had given her and he savoured the knowledge like vintage high-grade. He so enjoyed putting the objects of his games in situations like this, forcing them to choose between two evils where he would be the winner no matter what they chose.   
  
If she accepted – not likely, he admitted, but not beyond the realm of possibility – he would have scored an important psychological victory in making her actively participate in her own degradation (not to mention that having her glossa caressing his spike was a tantalising prospect indeed). If not, he could still take what he wanted and leave her with the knowledge or at least the illusion that she could have stopped him and spared herself some of the pain but freely chose not to.  
  
Chromia glared at her tormentor. Her kneejerk reaction was to tell him to take his “offer” and shove it firmly up his tailpipe, but she forced herself to actually consider the alternatives. Her valve was still very sore after the yesterday’s rape and she knew that another dry interface would not only be extremely painful but also might do real damage. The mere thought of intentionally if not willingly doing something that would pleasure the sadistic seeker was sickening, but surely the temporary discomfort would be better than the pain?  
  
But then again, what would be left of her if she submitted to him? If she allowed one crack in her armour he would soon be able to widen it and then she would be truly lost. And how could she ever face herself or her bondmate again knowing she had allowed Starscream to win?  
  
Her thinking was disrupted in a most straightforward way when Starscream retracted his interface cover to reveal his nearly fully pressurised spike, and in an instant she had made her decision.   
  
“Go frag yourself!” she growled through clenched dentae.  
  
The air commander looked amused.  
  
“Not sore enough yet to be compliant, eh?” he said. “Then I’ll have to do something about that.”  
  
He pushed himself back again until his pelvic plating was level with hers. Forcing her thighs apart by placing one of his knees between them he then grabbed one of her legs and positioned it over his shoulder. She tried to kick again but couldn’t get any strength behind the movement due to the awkward position. Then she once again felt the appalling touch of unfriendly hands delving beneath the edge of her interface cover. This time, though, Starscream didn’t settle for forcing it open. He ripped it of completely, prompting a howl from the blue femme as the sensitive plating tore.  
  
“Oh, come on,” he said mockingly. “You won’t be needing that panel for the foreseeable future anyway.” 

Chromia struggled to calm her racing intakes, fighting off her pain with anger, but Starscream left her no respite. Without further delay he directed his spike towards her opening and thrust his hips forward, once again burying himself completely within her in one single stroke.   
  
Chromia tried her hardest not to give her abuser the feedback he so obviously craved but when the raw sensor nodes in her valve were triggered by the thick invader as well as the flashing streaks of current, she could not keep silent. An agonized groan escaped her vocaliser and she caught herself wishing that she had chosen to accept his “offer” for lubrication. This was far worse than she had anticipated, and it had hardly begun yet.  
  
Starscream gasped at the glorious friction that sent sparks crackling all around his spike. The sensation was strong enough to be borderline painful even for him, but he relished it thoroughly. The keening sound of the femme beneath him made it even better.  
  
Shifting his grip on her slightly he pulled out and then plunged immediately back in, setting a slow but steady pace. Every deep thrust prompted an exquisite whimper from the stoic femme and each whimper sent a burst of ecstasy right through his spark. The echoes of desperation he picked up through her EM-field made his engines rev and his circuits hum with delight.  
  
“Oh, yes!” he grunted when she made another attempt at kicking him away, only succeeding in impaling herself even further on his rod. Her valve reflexively clamped down, trying to block the intrusion, and the seeker almost collapsed as his spike was so exquisitely squeezed. He spread her legs a little further still and increased the force of his pounding.  
  
“How… nice of you… to respond… so eagerly,” he panted in between his thrusts and then moaned when a particularly vicious stroke on his part caused her frame to arch up uncontrollably against his in a spasm of pain. “I’ll bet… you’re really… hnnn… enjoying this… aren’t you? Must be… better than… anything… your… fumbling… idiot… of a… bondmate… could give you.”  
  
Chromia shook her head, both in denial of his statement and as a reaction to the surges of sensory data that flooded her processor. The pain was so intense, clogging up her ability to think, but some half coherent part of her rebelled against the audacity of this vile mech to compare himself with her kind and caring bondmate. As if Ironhide would ever do anything to hurt her or even cause her discomfort! She longed for him so desperately, to feel the gentle touch of his strong arms closing protectively around her, shielding her from further harm. That urge for protection was something she had never felt before, never thought she would need or desire, which proved more than anything how much the seeker’s abuse was actually affecting her.  
  
The air commander felt himself getting close, the sight of her helpless writhing turning him on just as much as the feeling of her valve embracing his spike. He half wished he could have dragged it out longer, but he had been quite revved even before arriving at his quarters. The show his two wing mates had put up in the wash racks had been very arousing – not that they knew he’d been watching them over the security feeds, of course, nor that he had given them the task for the sole purpose of watching them, knowing full well that they would take all the liberties they thought they could get away with. They had not disappointed him.  
  
Slowing down but thrusting as hard as he could he drove into her a few more times before his release claimed him. With a roar worthy of his name Starscream overloaded, once again coating the Autobot femme’s valve with his sticky, purplish transfluid. He felt a small burst of warmth against his spike and realised with glee that he had managed to strain at least one of her sensor nodes enough to make the components burn out. 

Chromia could do nothing but sob and quiver as she felt her enemy overload within her. Her processor was reeling with sensory data from her overworked systems and fighting not to go into shock over the massive physical and emotional trauma. For once she couldn’t even find the will to fight, all she wanted was to disappear into the merciful blackness of unconsciousness, but the cruel seeker had denied her even that way out when he hacked her systems. She was stuck in reality and had no choice but dealing with it as best she could.  
  
Once the haze of overload bliss had dispersed Starscream looked down at his unwilling partner with a feeling of utter satisfaction. Her optics were barely online and her frame kept twitching spasmodically. Tears were staining her cheeks and her lower lip, trembling and parted from its upper companion in a most suggestive way, was stained with energon from where she had bitten down to keep herself from screaming.  
  
He was seriously tempted to ravish that delectable mouth of hers right then and there but restrained himself. In her current state she’d probably barely even notice, and he wanted to be able to enjoy her reaction, feel the tremors of unwillingness rattle through her frame, see the disgust and hatred burning in her optics as he claimed her. All in good time.  
  
He pulled out and climbed off her, then pushed her indifferently over the edge of the berth. She hit the floor with a distinctive _clang_ , but since her wrists were still chained to the berth she ended up half sitting, half hanging by her restraints. He heard her laboured intakes and a choked whimper as she tried to move, presumably to get into a somewhat less uncomfortable position, and failed, her limbs refusing to obey.   
  
_She won’t last much longer,_ he mused. _One or two more sessions and she’ll break._   
  
Then he made himself comfortable on his berth and, as if nothing had happened, powered down for recharge.


	4. The Pit is a State of Mind

If there really was such a place as the Pit, Chromia was pretty sure she was in it this very moment. Her every circuit ached, the cumulative effect very nearly driving her crazy. Her position was woefully uncomfortable and put way too much strain on her damaged shoulder and her bruised wrists, where the sharp edges of the cuffs had begun to carve into her plating. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to move, knowing it would hurt further still. She felt like a prisoner in her own frame, unable to move, unable to shut down and in too much pain to enter recharge. Suddenly she understood why some prisoners completely broke down and went mad and she prayed to Primus she wouldn’t end up as one of them. She had only been in captivity for little over two day cycles but it already felt like half an eternity.  
  
She didn’t realise she had let her spark barrier fall until she felt a strong surge of _worry-protectiveness_ over the bond. It was so bittersweet to feel all that love and care her bondmate held for her, knowing he was so far out of her reach and that she would possibly never even see him again. She couldn’t hold back a wave of _desperation-sorrow-apology_ , although she knew it would make him worry even more. He was no fool and he knew by the way she locked him out that she was being tortured in some way, even though he didn’t know any specifics. She felt the love he radiated being mixed with _frustration-anger_ and she knew exactly how he felt. She had been in the same position not too long ago when Ironhide had been captured and subjected to torture, and there were few things that could make a bot feel as useless as the knowledge that the love of your life was in agony somewhere and all you could do was to try to offer comfort from a distance.   
  
But Ironhide wasn’t created yesterday. With his own experience he knew fairly well how she was feeling and what she needed right now. He sent her wave after wave of _comfort-love-care-devotion_. She was not alone, would never be alone even if they were kept far apart. Even though there was no way he could physically transfer his strength to her he let the feeling of his presence within her very being serve as a solid rock for her to cling on to, preventing her from being completely swept away by the threatening current of desperation surrounding her.  
  
She gratefully accepted, opening her spark completely to him and allowed her mind to immerse itself in the protective cocoon of his love, shutting everything else out.  
  
For a moment she was almost happy again.  
  
***  
  
She had never noticed when she fell into recharge, swept up in the shielding cloud of her bondmate’s care as she was. The awakening, though, was a rough one. While her processor scrambled online she felt her frame being shifted around, which set off at least a dozen warnings about overstrained sensors and inadvisable movement. When she was coherent enough to take in her surroundings she realised she was sitting up on the floor, back against the berth where her hands were still firmly secured, now above and behind her.   
  
And standing right in front of her, way too close for comfort, was Starscream.  
  
She made an involuntary move as to draw away from him but flinched as even such a small change of positions sent waves of pain flaring from her abdomen across her sensor net. She obviously was in no condition to offer any resistance to whatever devilry the seeker may be up to and she mentally roared in frustration at being thus defeated by her own frame.  
  
Starscream sat down on his heels just in front of her and caught her gaze with his own.  
  
“Good morning, my dear,” he said with an amicable tone that didn’t fool her for one second. “I trust you have recharged well?”  
  
“Wonderfully,” she deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

The air commander frowned slightly. This was not the attitude he’d expected. By all rights she should hardly be coherent, processor completely clogged up by the overdose of sensory data. Even though she was obviously in a lot of pain, the pain didn’t rule her as it had the night before. There should be no way in Pit she had recovered that much during the few hours of recharge she may have managed to get during the night.  
  
He stored the riddle away in the back of his processor to work on later. He had something else to focus on right now.   
  
“Good,” he said, still with that annoying false friendliness in his voice. “I’m in the mood for something before I start my shift, and since I’m feeling particularly generous this morning I’ll let you choose this time: valve… or mouth?”  
  
He paused a while, as if waiting for an answer. The blue femme scowled at him but said nothing.  
  
“I won’t deny that I’m longing to have a go at that pretty mouth of yours,” Starscream continued, unperturbed by her silence,” and if you make a really good job of it I may even stay away from your valve completely… for now.”  
  
It was a cruel choice that was no choice at all. No matter how much she hated the idea of taking him in the mouth she couldn’t take another assault of her valve right now, not with every sensor already screaming and no way to cut the feed.  
  
“Well, what’s it going to be?” the seeker demanded.  
  
She was silent for a long time before she very reluctantly answered.  
  
“Mouth.”  
  
“As you wish, my dear,” the tricoloured mech said, not even bothering to hide his smugness.  
  
 _I don’t wish it but you leave me no choice, you slagging glitch!_ she thought as she watched him stand up, retract his panel and come closer. Then an idea crossed her mind. She could bite him. No doubt such an act would cost her a severe punishment, but at least he wouldn’t be able to rape her again for some time if she bit him hard enough.  
  
Starscream must have caught on to something in her posture, because he grabbed her chin harshly and forced her to look him straight in the optics.  
  
“Be warned,” he said, his voice suddenly ice cold with no trace of the teasing tone he’d used earlier. “If you bite me I’ll take you down to the rec room and let the soldiers pass you around until you offline. Understood?”  
  
She suddenly felt afraid. There was a dangerous glint in his optics and she knew he would have no qualms about following up on his threat, and that was something she couldn’t risk no matter what he did to her.  
  
Reluctantly, she nodded.  
  
“Good,” he said and released his grip on her chin. Instead he pushed her helm back against the edge of the berth, tilting her face upwards and used his other hand to guide his spike towards her lips. “Then you know what to do,” he added with a smirk.  
  
With her mind screaming in revulsion and shame she shuttered her optics, hesitantly opened her mouth and took him in.  
  
Starscream hissed in pleasure as he felt her lips close around the head of his spike. The warm wetness was exquisite, especially in combination with her firmly shuttered optics and tightly balled fists that bore witness to how much she hated it.  
  
“Oh yes, that’s a good femme,” he moaned. “And don’t forget to use your glossa.”  
  
Trying desperately to think of something else she applied a small amount of suction and forced her glossa to caress every part of the rapidly pressurising spike it could reach.  
  
The taste in itself wasn’t worse than she could have handled – at least he was clean – but the mere fact that it was _him_ made her tanks recoil and she had to fight the impulse to purge. Instead she kept sucking and licking, doing her best to ignore the appreciative moans coming from the seeker’s vocaliser.  
  
After some time Starscream began moving, thrusting slowly and pushing a little further in with each stroke. It wasn’t long before he reached the back of her mouth and then he kept going deeper, making her flinch when he hit her throat. Once more she had to fight back the need to purge and she tried to pull her helm aside to get some breathing space, but Starscream was having none of it.  
  
“Hmmb!” she protested as he grabbed her helm with both hands and pushed himself tightly against her face, burying his member fully within her. 

For a moment she forgot everything but the feeling of her throat constricting around the intruder as she gagged. She had never been particularly fond of giving oral and was in no way comfortable with the feeling of a spike pressing against the sensitive lining of her throat.  
  
The seeker, on the other hand, was more than comfortable. The feeling of her unwilling yet compliant mouth servicing him was exhilarating.  
  
“Oh yes…” he panted as he tightened his grip on the blue helm, pulling half way out before pushing back in with excruciating slowness. He shuttered his optics and focused solely on the sensory input from his interface as it slid past the Autobot’s lips, over her glossa and then down the tightening channel of her throat. Her gag reflex made the passage constrict around him in the most wonderful way and her choked grunts were the sweetest music to his audials.  
  
He knew he wouldn’t last long like this. The feeling of triumph may be slightly marred by the fact that she had recovered too well for his liking, but the pure physical pleasure he drew from the act was more than enough to compensate for that slight annoyance. Even approaching overload he kept his movements slow and smooth, although his frame was vibrating with the intensity of the sensory data flowing through him. Part of him wanted to just let go and pound into her hard and fast, but he knew this slow torture would have a much greater impact on her mentally so he reined himself in. The absence of any real pain induced by this particular rape would also in all probability add to the feelings of guilt she was unquestionably harbouring right now, or would be once it was over, and that suited Starscream just fine.   
  
Chromia felt how the vibrations in her abuser’s frame intensified for each time his pelvic plating connected with her lips and knew he was getting close. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he would force her to taste his release as well and cringed at the very idea. Her tanks were already churning from the numerous gag reflexes triggered by his invasion of her throat and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep herself from purging once he came. The feeling of being used like this was so utterly, horribly humiliating, even more so since she was, in a way, allowing him to do it. Technically she could stop this any time she wanted by biting him. True, that would have consequences far worse that this and therefore wasn’t truly an option, but some small part of her processor still kept telling her that she had brought this upon herself and therefore only had herself to blame. She tried hard not to listen but each of the seeker’s thrusts seemed to drive the message home just a little further. _You could stop this if you really wanted to, but you don’t have the courage. Coward!_ If someone else had said those words to her she would have slagged him and then ignored the insult but she was oddly defenceless when the accusation came from herself.  
  
She coughed and choked yet again as Starscream forced his spike down her throat one last time and kept it there. Sensing his imminent overload she tried desperately to somehow wriggle away but his hands held her face crushed against his crotch and didn’t leave her the slightest chance of avoiding him.  
  
Starscream held quite still, relishing her warm tightness and the horribly delightful feeling of being _just_ at the edge. When he felt he could hold back no longer he pulled back a bit so he would release his load in her mouth rather than down her throat. Then he allowed his overload to claim him. Swept up in ecstasy he couldn’t help laughing as he felt how the femme in his grip recoiled when his transfluid coated her glossa, palate and throat. He felt her tremble and heard her first gasp for air and then cough violently when some of his fluids apparently caught in her intakes. He held still for a few more moments while she coughed and heaved around his spike, then he unshuttered his optics and looked down at her. 

Her optics were still firmly shuttered and her lip plates were a little dented and had traces of his red paint on them. A small sample of transfluid had escaped the corner of her mouth, sliding slowly down her cheek. He felt how she automatically moved her glossa to stop the tickle, as one would with a stray string of oral lubricant, but stopped herself once she realised what she was doing. The movement still felt nice against his depressurising spike and the sight of her thus ravished was simply perfect.  
  
When the air commander finally released his grip and pulled out, Chromia’s helm immediately sank against her chest. She coughed again and spat out as much of his fluids as possible, but couldn’t rid herself of the disgusting taste. She tried to wipe the transfluid off her face against her shoulder but didn’t quite reach because of the awkward angle the restraints kept her arms in.  
  
She felt sullied inside out.  
  
When she finally looked up again Starscream was still standing there, looking down at her with that trademark smirk of his. She wanted so badly to punch him in the face, beat that slagging grin from his lip plates and extinguish the spiteful glint of those ruby optics. She wanted to tear him apart component by component, to make him suffer for what he had done and would no doubt continue to do to her.   
  
In her rage she even tried to move her legs to kick at him but was instantly punished for it as a new surge of pain rattled through her frame, provoking a sharp hiss of her intakes and forcing her to drop the idea and remain still.  
  
Starscream merely watched and enjoyed.  
  
“Now that was nice, wasn’t it, my dear?” the seeker finally said, determined to rub as much proverbial salt in her wounds as he possibly could. “And it’s so much more fun to actually be… participating, don’t you think? You’re shaping up to be a perfect little pleasure bot.”  
  
The blue femme said nothing, but glared at him with such intense hatred that the seeker felt a new rush of arousal run through him. Unfortunately he didn’t have time for another bout right now since he had to report for his shift very soon. Ah well, the waiting would merely make the next conquest all the sweeter. And he still had to figure out how she kept recovering so well, it wouldn’t do for her to keep ruining his work, after all. It would be something for his processor to keep working on while he was on patrol.  
  
He bent down to stroke her cheek as a final gesture of mock tenderness but she snapped at his fingers as soon as he got close. He chuckled and instead lowered his hand and placed it on the side of her neck, letting his thumb play along her main energon line. She shivered at the touch.  
  
“See you tonight, my dear,” he whispered, then straightened himself up and left the room.  
  
Just as before, as soon as her tormentor had left her alone Chromia sagged, both physically and mentally. It cost her more and more to keep up the stoic façade for each assault, and if she didn’t find a way out of this soon... Things would only get worse and she couldn’t stand even the thought of having the sadistic seeker touch her again, use her again, force her to… to…  
  
For the first time since she was captured Chromia completely broke down, sobbing violently and trying to somehow curl up in a ball in spite of the protests of her aching frame. Tears flowed down her cheeks, the first she had shed in a long time, not counting those from sheer physical pain that the rapes had brought her. But this was another kind of pain and it tore horribly at her spark. She was so totally helpless, felt so useless and weak. She had allowed her enemy to control her and submitted to his wishes. How could she even call herself an Autobot after such a betrayal? How could she even dare to think of her bondmate? She longed to reach out for him, to plead his forgiveness but shame stopped her. What right had she to seek his comfort anymore? She had failed him, how could he possibly love her after this?

Some saner part of her processor tried to argue that she was overreacting, that she was in no way to blame for what Starscream did to her and of course neither Ironhide nor anyone else would hate her for it. For once, though, she couldn’t bring herself to listen to reason as the full effect of the past days’ physical and emotional trauma hit her like an enormous flood from a broken dam. 

She began to shake violently and her intakes got laboured as the sobbing intensified. Her mind swept itself into a dark vortex of loneliness, desolation, hurt and despair and she couldn’t find it in her to resist its devastating power. It took all her strength to merely avoid being completely shredded and torn apart as images, sounds and sensations were hurled at her with increasing speed. She could hear herself scream, an endless litany of _no, no, no, no, NO!_  followed by a single, all-consuming _WHY!?_ and she didn’t even know if the sound of her voice was real or only an echo inside her processor as the impressions kept assaulting her. She was held down, unfriendly hands everywhere. A looming presence seemed to seep through her armour and invade her very being, tearing down her defences and ravishing her in every possible sense of the word. She begged for it to stop, it hurt so much, but all she got was an evil smile and more pain. _Oh no, my dear, I know you are enjoying this, admit it. After all, you could have stopped it_ the shapeless figure taunted. She screamed in denial but still felt a thick blanket of guilt come down over her. She was weak, she had failed. And somewhere nearby her friends were standing, watching. Once more she pleaded, cried out for them to help her, but they just looked at her in disgust and turned away. She was abandoned and there was no escape. No escape…  
  
The storm raged on for nearly twenty minutes and when the impressions finally began to fade they left behind a completely drained, very unhappy and still trembling Autobot femme to quietly cry herself into recharge.


	5. Not Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted additional warnings in the end notes, so as not to give away plot details to readers who do not wish to know beforehand.

Starscream was annoyed.  
  
He had been researching possible reasons for his prisoner’s unnatural recovery abilities on and off all day and still hadn’t found anything that seemed to provide a reasonable explanation. In the end it didn’t really matter, of course - sooner or later the stubborn Autobot would break under his treatment anyway - but it irked him not to be in complete control of the process, and even more so that some piece of knowledge eluded him. He silently (and, to be honest, sometimes not so silently) prided himself on being both intelligent and knowledgeable and if his prisoner’s resilience was something beyond a natural, personal ability, as Starscream suspected, then he wanted to know how it was achieved.   
  
Normally he didn’t allow his spare time activities to interfere with his work like this, but today Megatron had assigned him a whole suite of slow and tedious tasks, undoubtedly in punishment for some perceived insubordination, and the seeker felt entitled to some kind of compensation.   
  
At the moment he was supposed to be analysing battle reports, but he only paid sparse attention to what he was reading. Instead his optics kept returning to the secondary screen, where a full scan of the main database was currently running for any entry containing the words “enhance recovery”. So far it had turned up 11 693 hits, none of them relevant as far as he was able to judge. Most were dealing with medical procedures or special upgrades he knew the Autobot femme did not have.   
  
A discreet ping signalled yet another hit and the seeker automatically checked it, prepared for another double post. This time, however, there was something that caught his attention.  
  
 ** _…allowing the bondmates to share emotional strength and thus enhance resistance to physical and psychological strain and increase recovery rates from such significantly compared to…_**  
  
He looked at the screen with sudden interest.  
  
“Now, that is something…” he murmured as he opened the file and began reading very attentively.  
  
***  
  
It was only with great reluctance that Chromia came out of recharge. She wished she could have stayed forever in that merciful, oblivious blackness, but once she was awake thoughts and memories made it completely impossible to get back there.   
  
At some point during recharge her curled up position had begun sliding sideways and now she was sitting twisted to her right with her side against the berth, legs no longer pressed against her chest but folded half in front, half under her. Her wrists and arms were aching something fierce and she had trouble moving the right arm at all.  
  
She tried to somehow summon the will and energy to do something about her uncomfortable position, but found it hard to find motivation to do anything at all. She felt listless and sluggish. The logical part of her tried to argue that she had to get up, had to do something, anything in her power to even out the odds for the next encounter with the Decepticon SIC, while the emotional half only shook its figurative head and wondered why to bother, since it wasn’t likely to make any difference whatsoever in the end.  
  
Finally, though, reason won out and she slowly began to move her aching frame. At least it was some kind of relief to discover that her abdomen didn’t protest too badly. It still hurt but the pain was bearable; apparently her repair systems had finally managed to catch up a bit.  
  
She shuddered when she thought of what that reprieve had cost her.  
  
Moving very carefully she shifted positions until she was sitting on her knees, facing the berth and with her arms in front of her. Leaning her forehelm tiredly on her chained, bruised wrists she briefly considered climbing onto the berth, which would undoubtedly be more comfortable than staying on the floor, but considering what that berth represented she just couldn’t bring herself to do it and stayed where she was. 

She felt filthy, disgusting and strangely hollow, as if something had been taken away from her and was irrevocably lost. Was it self-respect? Pride? Dignity? For the moment she couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she was feeling weak and fragile in a way she had never before experienced.  
  
She thought about her breakdown earlier that day. Without the storm of emotions clouding her processor she could keep the ghosts at bay but she feared she may succumb to them again once the pain and humiliation intensified. It was just as fear of the dark; easy to dismiss and seemingly trivial during daytime, but once night came…   
  
She fervently hoped she’d be able to keep her face in front of her tormentor; she couldn’t bear the thought of him witnessing her weakness. He may be able to force her frame – there was not much she could do about that in her current state, she was no match for him pound for pound – but as long as she kept fighting she could still cling on to the knowledge that he hadn’t completely defeated her. Outwardly that knowledge was little more than an illusion, but to her it made great deal of difference.  
  
She was just about to open up the bond to let her mate know she was at least still conscious and more or less in one piece when she caught the sound of the by now all too familiar gait of a seeker approaching the door. Steeling herself she somehow managed to push herself up onto her pedes. She couldn’t stand straight with her wrists still so tightly bound to the berth and knew deep within that this change of positions didn’t really make that much a difference, but remaining on the floor would have signalled submission and she was not willing to give him that satisfaction.   
  
Shuttering her optics for a moment she vented in and out deeply, composed her faceplates to a mask of resolute defiance and waited.  
  
***  
  
Starscream smiled at the sight that greeted him when he entered his quarters.   
  
“Good evening, my dear,” he greeted her with his usual phoney friendliness. “I am pleased to see you up and about.”  
  
The blue femme debated with herself whether it would be better to react to his taunt or remain silent but quickly decided it didn’t really matter either way.  
  
“You can spare me the elegant phrases, Starscream,” she said in a tone that gave away more bitterness than she had intended. “You’re not fooling anyone so why keep pretending?”  
  
“Now, now, my dear, no need to be rude,” the seeker replied as he advanced with studied nonchalance.  
  
Chromia suddenly felt a new wave of anger swell within her.  
  
“Rude?” she snorted. “You complain of my being rude while you keep me here as a fragging plaything for your perverted pleasures!” She instinctively straightened up and winced when a sharp bolt of pain shot through her scraped wrists and damaged shoulder. “And you don’t even have the decency to fight me fairly, you rust-infected son of a glitch!”  
  
Starscream looked at her in amusement.  
  
“You know, your temper tantrums are really quite a turn-on,” he said calmly, completely ignoring the criticism in her words. “I might have to record that for future reference. Speaking of recordings, I’m certain you’ll be glad to know that your performance this morning has already become quite popular,” he continued, feeling a delicious sensation rush through his spark as he saw her jolt at that. “You should have seen Skywarp, he was positively drooling when I showed it to him.”  
  
Chromia froze, then felt her face plates heat up in furious mortification. Somehow, without her noticing it, Starscream had recorded the procedure? And not only that, he had shared it with others? She wished she could sink through the floor.   
  
_He’s lying, oh please Primus, tell me he’s lying!_ she silently pleaded.  
  
As if he’d heard her thoughts the seeker crossed the room and activated the monitor on his private work station. The pinioned Autobot was at once treated to the crystal clear image of her own face as her lips parted and then closed around the seeker’s spike. She turned away, the sight making her feel physically sick. Her legs suddenly felt wobbly and she had to sit down on the berth to keep herself from falling over. 

“There really is no end to your debauchery, is there?” she hissed through clenched dentae, voice thick with loathing as she tried to shut out the sounds of grunts and moans streaming from the monitor.  
  
“I should hope not, for I’m enjoying it immensely,” the air commander replied, optics never leaving the screen. His smile suddenly turned smug. “Come to think of it, maybe I should let Swindle get hold of a copy of this,” he continued mercilessly, turning towards her again. “I’m convinced he could turn it into a decent profit. Not to mention it would surely be a great morale booster for the troops to see one of their enemies thus properly put in place.”  
  
 _No. He wouldn’t, surely he wouldn’t?_ Chromia thought in desperation. He was the Decepticon SIC, he wouldn’t want it generally known that he was a sick, perverted rapist. Surely that would lose him the respect of all his fellow Decepticons?  
  
Or… would it?  
  
Her Autobot morals found the reasoning completely repulsive, but from what she knew of the general Decepticon mentality Starscream was probably right. He would gain rather than lose from such a display.  
  
“Oh, and of course we’ll make sure your friends back in Iacon get a copy, too,” the tricoloured mech finished with glee as he shut down the monitor and moved towards her again. “Then at least they’ll have something to remember you by.”  
  
Chromia hadn’t thought it possible to hate the mech in front of her more than she already did but he had just proved her wrong. She felt just about ready to self-combust from the intensity of the revulsion and rage that burned within her at the seeker’s words.  
  
“You… you…” she said, trying to find something hideous enough to compare him to but realised he was already at the very bottom of that list. She felt her emotional control beginning to slip and turned away from him, leaning heavily on her shackled hands.  
  
Starscream smiled triumphantly and stepped closer.  
  
As soon as Chromia felt the seeker’s EM-field brush against hers something within her snapped. With a speed and agility that caught even herself by surprise she rolled back on the berth, curled her legs up and kicked.  
  
For once, Starscream was totally unprepared for the attack and howled in pain as her pedes struck him straight in the face. He stumbled backwards and landed inelegantly on the floor, cursing loudly and clutching his face with his hands.   
  
Chromia’s entire frame protested at the explosive movement and she barely managed to heave herself upright again, but she nevertheless felt a wonderful rush of satisfaction. It felt so unbelievably good to finally, _finally_ score a hit, to know she had given him some pain in exchange for all he’d done to her.  
  
Starscream slowly got back on his pedes again and turned towards her. Chromia was pleased to see that she had managed to crush his olfactory sensor and leave two ugly gashes on his forehelm and chin. The feeling subsided somewhat when she saw the murderous look in his optics.  
  
“You… will pay for that! Dearly!” the seeker hissed in a low, grinding voice as he wiped the smear of energon off his face.  
  
When his fist connected with her face Chromia felt like she had driven full speed into a mountain wall. She felt her left optic crack and the strut of her cheek creak ominously as the surface plating tore. The force of the blow flung her back onto the berth and before she could react the seeker flipped her onto her back and pinned her down with his greater weight.  
  
“I wasn’t planning to do this for a couple of days yet,” the air commander growled as he straddled her, “but now you’re going to pay the price of defying me.”  
  
He roughly forced her helm to the side and slammed his uplink cable into the medical port in her neck. She instantly felt his presence inside her processor and hurled up every firewall available to her in an attempt to keep him away, but he was already in and she could only stand by helplessly as he tore through her coding and programming, obviously looking for something. When she finally realised exactly what, a chasm seemed to open beneath her and she screamed in pure horror. 

“No! Don’t! Please, don’t! No!!!” she screamed, kicking wildly and throwing her helm from side to side in a vain attempt at dislodging the cable.  
  
The seeker didn’t care. He activated the command he had found.  
  
Chromia’s chest plates began sliding open.  
  
“No, no, no, no, no…” she cried, shaking her helm in denial and struggling desperately to push him off. Not her spark. He had ruined every other part of her, couldn’t he leave this single remaining corner untarnished?  
  
She knew she had her answer when she heard a second set of chest plates slide apart and felt his weight shifting on top of her. She forced herself to look up and found her one functioning optic staring straight into Starscream’s open spark chamber. The ruby red orb of the air commander’s spark was pulsing strongly and she saw the light of her own azure core reflected against his armour, meaning her spark was completely exposed as well.  
  
She raised her gaze to meet his optics and shuddered at the look of utter malice on his disfigured face.  
  
“Don’t do this, Starscream,” she pleaded, all sense of pride and rebellion gone. “Please, don’t! If there’s one decent bolt in you…”  
  
The seeker flashed her a sadistic grin and bent a little closer, his anger replaced by anticipation and a cruel delight in seeing and feeling her horror at what he was about to do. A few drops of energon slipped from his broken olfactory sensor and landed on the Autobot’s cheek, mixing with the pinkish fluid already leaking from the gash he’d torn open when he struck her.  
  
“There isn’t, my dear,” he said calmly but no less triumphantly at having her finally pleading for mercy. “Never has been, never will be.”  
  
With that he dug his arms in under the struggling femme’s shoulders, lowered his frame the last bit and pressed their chests together, forcing his spark against hers.  
  
Chromia tried to scream but found herself completely paralysed as Starscream threw pulse after pulse of his spark energy into her. The sensation was beyond pain, beyond agony, not only because she was unwilling and not the least bit aroused but because the frequency of the energy bursts was completely wrong. She was bonded and thus her spark was set to accept the signature of one other spark only. To have a foreign one forced upon her was like the proverbial square peg in the round hole. They were completely incompatible.  
  
At the seventh pulse the Autobot femme finally found her vocaliser again and screamed as her chest contorted in pain. Through the raging surges of conflicting energy she could dimly feel an echo of _pain-confusion-fear_ from her bondmate and realised she was broadcasting in panic. She tried desperately to close the bond, to shield him from her agony, but her spark was frantically calling its mate for help and she couldn’t block it no matter how hard she tried.  
  
With each vicious pulse the seeker sent into her the pent up charge in Chromia’s spark chamber increased as it had nowhere to go. She couldn’t accept it into her spark even if she had wanted to – which she certainly did not – and she didn’t have the strength to push it back against the steady stream of new pulses from the blazing red spark that kept assaulting her. Her core temperature was quickly reaching critical levels, no matter how hard her internal fans and cooling systems were working to counteract it, and warnings about failing components and system damage streamed constantly across the tortured femme’s HUD. She couldn’t even scream any more, her overtaxed vocaliser managing little more than whimpers.  
  
Finally, her spark couldn’t bear the strain anymore and did the only thing it could to avoid extinguishing from excess charge.   
  
It removed the setting that kept it from accepting the foreign energy.  
  
Starscream felt the slender frame beneath him suddenly convulse and the face of his victim freeze in a mask of agonised desperation as her bond with Ironhide was broken. Then her optic turned white and she emitted a low, static-ridden keen before her limbs sagged and went completely lifeless. 

Starscream felt a slight tug as her now completely unshielded spark absorbed all the energy he had heaved upon it. He knew that the broken bond caused her spark to desperately reach out for contact, searching for a mate that was no longer there, and that he could have easily forced a bonding with her if he had wanted to. He wasn’t the least bit interested, but the knowledge that he _could_ and that she would have no way of preventing him sent him virtually soaring. 

He increased the speed of his pulses and moaned in pleasure as surges came echoing back from her spark. She was way too far out of it to realise or even have any control of how she was reciprocating, but that didn’t really matter. Thanks to the amount of energy he had already poured into her it wouldn’t take long before they both reached peak levels and tumbled over the edge. Some small part of him regretted the fact that she wouldn’t even notice her own overload – it was always nice to see that devastated look of shame that accompanied a forced overload – but in the end it wasn’t important. He’d have plenty of time and opportunity to taunt her about it later. If she ever regained full consciousness, that was. He knew it wasn’t all that unusual for bots to go into stasis and then fade away completely when their bondmates died, and he assumed a broken bond may have the same effect.  
  
With one final pulse Starscream pressed himself even tighter against the blue femme and overloaded in an explosion of light. Flares of current danced from one frame to the other and the energy reverberated between them, red against blue, as his discharge forced her spark into overloading too. A strangled groan from the Autobot was the only sign that she wasn’t completely out of it yet, and it was impossible to tell if the sound was one of pleasure or pain. Starscream very much doubted that her processor had registered the overload at all.  
  
The seeker maintained his tight grip on the smaller frame until the waves of passion had completely dispersed and only the pleasant afterglow remained. Then, drained by the intensity of the discharge, the seeker slumped down and rolled off the barely conscious and totally catatonic blue femme. As soon as the spark connection broke his chest plating automatically slid back in place, as did hers. For a while he just lay there, panting while his systems restored themselves to standard operational levels. It had been quite a while since he’d last spark merged with someone and he had forgotten how demanding it could be if both partners weren’t active. Still, he mused, it had been pleasant and well worth the effort.  
  
He rose on his elbow and looked at the object of his recent conquest. She hadn’t moved an inch and her one functioning optic shone almost white, meaning she was somewhere between shock paralysis and stasis. He leaned over and kissed her bruised lips.  
  
“And now, my pretty little femme,” he said smugly as he let his fingers ghost over her motionless, energon-tainted face, “we’ll see how tough you are when you don’t have your bondmate to fall back on.”  
  
Without further concern he pushed her off the berth, plugged himself into his medical scanner, setting it to assist his internal repair systems in patching up his face while he was recharging, and powered down for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings for this schapter: forced spark merge, bond breaking


	6. A Fickle Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for additional warnings

Ironhide was gone.   
  
She could feel nothing. Not his presence within her, not the warmth of his love, not the shivers of his concern and worry. Nothing remained of the bond that had been the centre of her life for almost 600 vorns and her spark felt as if it would implode any second, shrink in on itself and extinguish.  
  
She couldn’t stop her mind from returning again and again to that horrible moment when her bondmate had been ripped from her spark. Her own physical pain had been nothing in comparison with the desperate dread she had felt over the bond during that split second before it was severed, that fraction of a moment when Ironhide understood he was going to lose her. There had been one single but immensely strong pulse of _love-protection-desperation-sorrow_ and then… nothing.  
  
To his knowledge she had died then. It wasn’t likely anyone would think of the possibility that the bond had been purposefully broken and that she was still alive. Knowing her bondmate so well - she refused to think of him as anything else, physical bond broken or no - she very much feared what that supposed knowledge would do to him. In all probability he would channel his sorrow into anger and desire for revenge and unleash it on any ‘Con within range. And that kind of rage made him careless.  
  
And in a war, careless bots got killed.  
  
For all she knew her beloved might already have committed such indirect suicide by now, and she would never know.  
  
That was the part that was killing her: not knowing. She tried to tell herself that Prime, Ratchet and the others would never allow such a thing to happen, but that was still only words. She _did not know_.  
  
She had never before realised how important that seemingly simple knowledge was to her. Ever since they had bonded all those vorns ago she had always _known_ , even when the bond was closed and reduced to a minimum, that Ironhide was alive and that she would know in an instant if anything serious happened to him. With time she had come to take that knowledge for granted and it wasn’t until now she knew how horrible it could be _not_ to know. They were at war, which meant you always lived with the risk of losing the ones you cared about. In such circumstances most bots quickly adopted the view that as long as you didn’t know the worst you could at least hope, but after 600 vorns of knowing, hoping just wasn’t enough.  
  
Chromia heaved a dejected sigh and moved a little, flinching as she felt a sharp edge cut into her neck when the chain connected to the tight mag-collar around her neck was accidentally pulled taut. She carefully untangled the chain and then wriggled around for a few moments on the poor excuse for a mattress, trying to find a position that didn’t put too much pressure on her right arm, which she couldn’t use at all anymore, the wounded side of her face or a number of other sore spots. With the low rations of poor quality energon she was being fed her systems hadn’t had any chance of repairing the damage she had suffered, and her captor hadn’t displayed any interest in providing her with medical attention either.   
  
After the breaking of the bond she had spent the better part of 16 day cycles unconscious and on the verge of complete stasis. Even on the rare occasions when she had momentarily returned to the surface she had taken in very little of her surroundings. She knew, though she hadn’t found it in herself to care at the time, that Starscream had kept forcing himself on her during that time, but everything concerning her frame had seemed so far off and insignificant in comparison to the horrendous void in her spark. Once she returned to full consciousness and rationality she had felt the traces, however. Or, rather, had not felt them, which was worse since it meant the abuse had been so severe that all the sensory circuitry in her valve was now dead. She had no idea if such damage could ever be repaired, but unless by some miracle she got out of the air commander’s clutches the question was rather an academic one anyway. 

There were moments when Chromia was seriously considering self-deactivation. Even in her weakened state she had the means to do it, but there were always two things that held her back. First, it would mean admitting herself completely defeated and granting Starscream the triumph he was so obviously craving, and she was still not willing to give him that ultimate victory. Second, and more importantly, she couldn’t bear leaving without knowing for sure whether Ironhide was alive or not. If he was gone she would have little to live for even if she survived, but if he lived she knew she somehow had to get back to him, to let him know that she was still alive, no matter what it would cost her.  
  
Hearing sounds outside the room Chromia tried to push herself into a sitting position and winced at the effort. Even though she was no longer chained down to the berth and thus technically had a lot more freedom to move about she very rarely had the energy to do so. She had been very weak ever since the breaking, and whether this had to do with the loss of the bond, the abuse in itself or mere lack of proper rest and fuel she did not know. Many of her systems were still a mess after Starscream’s second hacking, including her self-diagnostics, so she had no idea of her current status apart from what she could physically see and feel.  
  
Even with nothing but the chain around her neck to restrain her movements it took nearly a minute for Chromia to sit herself up and she still had to lean against the wall for support. Today was not one of her better days and she caught herself hoping that Starscream was not in a bad mood. Not that she appreciated his good moods either, but they were usually less painful for her.   
  
Ever since she came out of her half-stasis she had noticed that the seeker had evidently established something of a routine concerning her during those sixteen days when she had been mainly out of it. If he’d had a good day he usually settled for dragging her to his berth, having his way with her and then left her alone. If he was in a really good mood there would be taunting and mocking as well, but those things were affecting her less and less in her crippled emotional state and it was not often the tricoloured mech managed to get a reaction from her.  
  
On the other hand, if the air commander had had a bad day he tended to take it out on her. He would harshly yank her up from the floor by the chain, slam her against the wall or his workbench as he forcefully took her and generally use a lot more force than necessary to subdue her virtually non-existing resistance. And although her valve couldn’t register any pain at the rough treatment anymore the rest of her sensory net was still online and could.  
  
Those nights were the ones when she was close to deactivation. Not by Starscream’s hands directly – for all his brutality he usually made sure to avoid inflicting any further major damage – but because the effort of managing the physical pain along with the still prominent, aching emptiness in her spark almost drove her insane. And now she had nowhere to go, no metaphorical safe haven she could withdraw to and escape the cruelties of this world.  
  
The only thing that kept her from losing hold completely on those occasions was the intensity of her wish – hope would have been too strong a word – to see her bondmate again.  
  
Chromia made an effort to focus on the door where her nemesis would soon appear if the sounds from outside were anything to go by. Usually she could accurately gauge the level of tonight’s torment within seconds after the seeker returned to his quarters, and that was knowledge she both craved and feared. Starscream’s latest fit of rage had been three days ago now and she still felt the traces – if it never happened again it would still be too soon, and she really wished she could hope for that, but she wasn’t that naïve. All she could realistically hope for was to get a few more days of recovery before it happened again.  
  
The door cycled open and the battered femme drew a faint sigh of relief. The seeker’s gait was relaxed, and even though the look of his face probably meant taunting and mind games were forthcoming, at least the physical torture would be kept to a minimum.

“Hello, my dear,” Starscream greeted her with a grin soon as he entered. Crossing the room he produced two energon cubes from subspace, put the smaller one on his workbench and took a sip from the other as he leaned against the aforementioned piece of furniture and watched his prisoner.  
  
In spite of her wounds and badly scratched paintjob, complete with a number of paint transfers from his own frame, he still found her attractive. The unintentionally submissive position she was in and the chain that rattled with every little movement she made merely added to the charm. He liked chains. Of course there were a lot more effective and practical ways to keep a prisoner in place than simple chains (not to mention that this particular prisoner strictly speaking didn’t need restraints at all since she was too weak to even sit up properly, never mind waltzing out of there), but Starscream liked the physical manifestation of helplessness they conveyed and used them as often as he got a chance.  
  
Taking another drink from his cube he smiled inwardly at how she was trying not to look at him – or, rather, at his two cubes of energon – obviously trying to hide the fact that her systems were screaming at her to refuel, to beg for some of that invigorating liquid.  
  
“Feel like some energon?” he asked in a tone that could have been taken for amiability if it hadn’t been for the smirk on his lips and the smug glint in his optics. Finishing his own cube he grabbed the other one, crossed the floor and sat down beside her, holding it out in front of her. When she made a movement to take it, though, he pulled it out of her reach.   
  
“Now, where are your manners?” he said chidingly, waving the cube around in a teasing manner. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”  
  
Chromia tiredly lifted her single-opticed gaze from the cube to the mech that was holding it. She didn’t feel like playing along with his games in the least but knowing that her only alternatives were to beg, which was humiliating, or go without, she went for the lesser evil. The battered remains of her pride screamed at her every time she did it, but she was way past the point where pride had to give way to basic needs, like it or not.  
  
“Can I have my energon… please?” she said, her voice low and strained with disuse and distaste at her own weakness that forced her to utter the words.  
  
Starscream considered for a while if he should make her beg a little more convincingly but finally decided against it and gave her the cube, watching with amusement how she hungrily downed its contents in one go. He had another blow to deal her tonight and wanted to get on with it.  
  
“I saw your _former_ bondmate on the battlefield today,” he said, making sure to stress the word ‘former’. Pretending not to notice the sudden stiffening of the femme’s frame he went on. “I’m actually surprised Prime let him out, judging by his behaviour he’s taken the loss of you pretty hard. He was even more reckless than those accursed twins, and though I’ve never given him much credit for smartness, even _he_ should know better than to get in the way of Devastator. It got pretty… messy.”  
  
Chromia’s spark flickered at that comment and the energon she’d just consumed seemed to freeze in her lines. Of course she knew that Starscream wasn’t what you’d call a reliable source of information on the best of days, and certainly not now when he had an interest in making her feel miserable, but since this was apparently bad news it was very possible that it was true. Also, that was exactly the kind of reaction she had expected and feared from her sparkbroken bondmate, and she wasn’t sure if Starscream understood Ironhide well enough to make up such a story.  
  
Starscream seemed to realise that she was doubting the truthfulness of his words and smiled.  
  
“Oh no, my dear,” he said as he shuffled over and then straddled her, catching and holding down her left arm when she raised it in a vain attempt to push him away. “I’m not making this up. I’ll show you exactly how close to the truth I’m staying.”  
  
After some pawing the seeker located Chromia’s uplink cable and then – to the Autobot’s great surprise – he connected it to one of his own ports. 

“Come here and see for yourself,” the seeker said and lowered his outer firewall to give her access to his systems. Obviously the access was limited and she’d only be allowed to go where he wanted her to go, but Chromia still couldn’t help but feeling offended that he considered her such a minimal threat – which may be true at the moment, but still – that he didn’t even hesitate to let her inside his systems.  
  
The blue femme felt revulsion at the mere thought of entering her tormentor’s processor, but it was the only way to establish the truth in his words and her need to know outweighed her disgust. The fact that he was allowing her to see his original memory file instead of simply making a copy and transfer it to her was significant. Copies could easily be altered and manipulated, but an original could not, meaning he really wanted her to know for sure what had happened. Logically that meant it was indeed bad news, but that didn’t matter. She had to know.  
  
Reluctantly she accessed his systems, followed his guidance until she found the correct memory segment and opened it.  
  
It was very strange, experiencing things from the air commander’s point of view, to feel how ‘she’ dashed through the air and shot at her Autobot friends or snarled insults filled with hatred and loathing at them.  
  
Then she saw Ironhide and her own feeling of intense longing and desperate worry clashed with Starscream’s malicious amusement when she saw the way her bondmate acted. It wasn’t all out uncontrolled thrashing but not far from it. For all his attitude and battlefield fierceness Ironhide was usually an extremely controlled fighter, aware of himself and his surroundings down to the last detail, and when he attacked it was with huge force and perfect accuracy.  
  
The force was there, alright, but neither focus nor accuracy was even close to his normal standards, and Chromia had to second Starscream in wondering how the Pit Ironhide had been cleared for battle when he was so obviously unbalanced. The most probable explanation was that he hadn’t, but had decided to sneak along anyway, desperate to get some outlet for his anger, sorrow and frustration. And possibly a warrior’s death.  
  
Chromia’s entire being shivered when she saw the Constructicons merge into Devastator and head for the centre of the battlefield. Only one bot stood in the green and purple gestalt’s way.   
  
Ironhide.  
  
Instead of doing the sane thing – i.e. transform and get the Pit away from there – Ironhide simply reloaded his gun with an entirely joyless smile on his face and started shooting.  
  
At first the gestalt didn’t even bother to acknowledge the red Autobot warrior, but suddenly there was a small explosion –Starscream/Chromia couldn’t see exactly where – and the giant stopped abruptly, as if some motor relay had just ceased functioning. Then he uttered a roar of anger, bent down and grabbed the by comparison tiny bot that had somehow managed to cause him damage. Without further ceremony he tore the weapon from Ironhide’s grip, then repeated the process with the arm that had held the gun. The din of the surrounding battle drowned out every individual sound, but Chromia could see how her bondmate’s face contorted in pain. Then Devastator dropped him, caught him mid-fall with his left pede and kicked him across the open area. The red mech flew a good 400 metres before crashing hard into a wall and sinking motionless to the ground.  
  
Chromia cried out and instinctively tried to move towards her fallen beloved, but since she was inside another’s memory she naturally had no control of movements, she could only follow along. Thankfully Starscream had had his own interest in the matter and touched down just beside the prone form of the Autobot weapons specialist. Chromia hardly dared to look, fearing to see the slow fading of colours that followed deactivation, but at the same time she couldn’t turn away. She had to know. 

Using his pede Starscream turned Ironhide’s mangled chassis over on its back. Not unexpectedly the mech was offline. Apart from his missing arm his helm was badly dented, both legs were twisted in unnatural angles and large parts of his chest plating had buckled in, smashing the windshield of his alt model. Energon leaked from countless small fractures and gashes, adding further to the brutalized look of the warrior’s frame.  
  
Chromia hardly noticed any of this. Instead all her focus was on three tiny lights that could just barely be seen through the cracked windshield and would be impossible to spot if you didn’t know exactly what you were looking for. To her immense relief all of them were glowing blue, meaning Ironhide’s spark chamber, fuel pump and processor were, against all odds, still intact despite the huge amount of external damage.  
  
Her bondmate wasn’t called Ironhide without reason.  
  
Starscream took a step forward as if to further investigate something or possibly make sure that the Autobot went from – as he thought – dying to dead, but suddenly there was laser fire everywhere as a furious Jazz and an even angrier Ratchet came storming towards their fallen comrade. Starscream immediately retreated, seeing no reason to pursue the matter further. Instead he returned his focus to the rest of the battle, feeling smug and content now that he had yet another weapon to use against his prisoner.  
  
Here the memory segment ended and Chromia pulled herself out of the seeker’s systems as fast as she could. Her emotions were in turmoil, but the feeling that drowned all others was relief. No matter how horrible it had been to see her beloved’s frame so mutilated, she now knew beyond doubt that he was alive. Ratchet had come the very moment Starscream left, and with only external damage, albeit extensive, there was no way Ratchet wouldn’t be able to save him. And after this they would keep Ironhide under observation once he recovered, making sure such a thing didn’t happen again.  
  
For the first time in many, many days Chromia felt some amount of inner peace, and with the release of all the pent up anxiety tears began to flow down her cheeks.  
  
Starscream, for once misinterpreting the situation entirely, felt a pulse of elation run through his spark at the sight of her crying. He naturally assumed that the sight of her former bondmate broken and possibly dying had dealt her a hard blow, which had been his intention.  
  
“Now, wasn’t that unfortunate?” he goaded as he disconnected her uplink cable and with exaggerated gentleness coiled it back into its compartment. “It would seem your former mate has developed something of a death wish. It’s a pity I didn’t have time to oblige him, but he seemed to be doing fairly well on his own, don’t you think?” he went on as he cupped her face with his hands and bent down to kiss her, catching the running tears with his lips and glossa. At the same time he retracted his interface panel, preparing to initiate the more physical part of tonight’s entertainment.  
  
Chromia vaguely realised she should show some kind of reaction, or else the seeker might realise just how much his plan had backfired, giving her hope instead of taking it away. She managed to produce a small whimper, which abruptly turned into a completely genuine groan as the seeker entered her. The forced entry in itself didn’t hurt anymore, but the seeker had placed his elbows on her shoulders for support as he set his by now sickeningly familiar, dominating pace, and her right shoulder hurt like Pit. Some part of her processor registered the complete absurdity of complaining about a hurting shoulder while being raped, but after the emotional rollercoaster the visit in Starscream’s memory file had put her through she had given up on rationality for the time being. Completely shutting out what was being done to her frame, what little remained of her processing capability simply kept repeating three small words, over and over again.  
  
 _He. Is. Alive._

***  
  
She wasn’t quite sure what it was that had pulled her out of recharge.  
  
She lay on the thin excuse for a mattress in what she had come to think of as her corner of the floor. Starscream was recharging on his berth at the other end of the room and everything was quiet.  
  
So why had she woken up? She still felt tired and groggy, so it wasn’t likely she had simply come online of her own accord. She had slipped into recharge almost immediately once Starscream had been done with her, systems unable to process more input of any kind, and that had only been a few hours ago.  
  
She was just about to try powering down again when she felt a slight tug at her spark.  
  
At first she wasn’t sure if she had really felt it or if it was only an echo from other overstrained components. She tried to clear her mind from the cobwebs of recharge and focus on the elusive sensation. Yes, there it was again.  
  
Her first, irrational thought was that maybe, somehow some faint echo of the bond remained, but she discarded the idea immediately. No matter how much she wished to believe it, if that had been the case she’d have felt it long ago. Also, even in a weakened form she was sure that she would have recognised Ironhide’s presence if it had been him. This feeling was quite foreign.   
  
The next possibility, one that struck her with dread, was that her fragmented spark had somehow clung on to the only other spark available and created some kind of bond with Starscream. She didn’t know if it was even possible to form a bond without both partners actively seeking it, but then she hadn’t thought it possible to break a bond the way Starscream had, either. The mere thought of ending up bonded to Starscream was enough to make the energon in her lines freeze. She would rather face deactivation.  
  
Still, that alternative didn’t explain why she hadn’t felt anything until now, either. And considering how dominant the sadistic seeker was she was convinced that his presence within her would feel quite different. He would tear at her and try to subdue her. This presence was carefully exploring, giving faint impressions of benign curiosity.  
  
She warily probed the feeling deeper. The stream was faint but to Chromia’s surprise it reacted to her probing with joy and contentment. And love.  
  
All of a sudden an emotional abyss opened beneath the Autobot femme as she finally connected the dots and realised the reason for her feeling so extremely weak recently and the strange ache in her chest. She had though it was all because of the broken bond.  
  
She had been wrong. It was much worse.  
  
She was sparked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings: Spark pregnancy


	7. Too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings in the end notes

Chromia felt a tidal wave of absolute panic crush down on her. No, no, no, no, oh sweet Primus, no!! It couldn’t be, not here, not now, not like this. Not like this!  
  
But there was no denying it. Now that she knew what to look for she could feel it next to her own spark, a tiny pulsing orb that was the beginning of a new life, a life kindled by her.  
  
And Starscream.  
  
Unable to stop herself she broke down in tears. She and Ironhide had both wanted to have a sparkling for a long time, but had known that it would be madness as long as the war raged. Even if they could somehow find a way to guarantee their creation’s safety, she and Ironhide faced the risk of deactivation every time they went into battle, meaning there was an ever-present risk of the sparkling ending up an orphan. That was not something either of them wanted to live with. So, they had waited.  
  
And now she was carrying, for the first time in her life, and it was as a result of a forced merge by a mech she hated.  
  
She felt a pulse of distress from the newly established bond as the sparklet evidently picked up and reacted negatively to her turbulent emotions. Instinctively she sent reassurance and comfort in return. Her carrier subroutines were kicking in and no matter how much she wanted to she couldn’t bring herself to hate the little presence in her chest that had sent her a pulse of innocent love even before she herself had been aware of its existence. No matter how it was conceived and no matter how much she wished it hadn’t been, that little sparklet couldn’t be blamed for its own existence.  
  
But now a thousand questions presented themselves. What would happen now? How long would it take before Starscream discovered her condition? How would he react to it? And, considering how she was being treated, would her systems even be able to support the developing sparkling? She was barely given enough energon to keep herself going, how could she possibly sustain yet another spark? Normally carriers doubled their fuel consumption during the gestation period to compensate for the drain, which explained why she had been so extremely weak and tired of late. And the drain would increase as the sparklet grew.  
  
It was an impossible situation. Even if the sparklet didn’t extinguish due to her poor condition she would have no way of providing a suitable protoform to hold the newspark once it was time for extraction. Even if she had been free and had had the proper materials she couldn’t have constructed a protoform by herself, that required the skills of an engineer or a medic.  
  
Which brought her back to the crux of the matter: How would Starscream react? Would he even care that the sparkling was his as well? Would he be willing to provide the extra resources necessary to guarantee its survival? Or would he merely shrug and allow it to fade along with its carrier? Or maybe even extinguish it himself? He had broken into her chest once before, he could easily do so again.  
  
And what if, against all odds, he allowed the sparkling to live, what then? She would certainly not be allowed to keep it with her, it would probably be hustled away somewhere to be given a proper Decepticon upbringing. Even if Starscream chose to acknowledge the sparkling as his Chromia couldn’t in any way imagine the seeker personally taking on the role as a responsible, dedicated creator.  
  
The mere idea was so preposterous she burst into a bitter laugh in the middle of her sobbing. 

But should she tell him or not? Tell him, and face the risk of him extinguishing the sparklet out of pure malice? Or keep silent and hope for… what?  
  
These thoughts kept racing back and forth, round and around in Chromia’s processor until she thought she was going to go insane. There simply was no solution.  
  
After spending nearly three hours in this state exhaustion finally took its toll and forced the grief-stricken femme into recharge.  
  
***  
  
Starscream didn't greet her with his usual “hello, my dear” when he returned to his quarters that evening, and that instantly made Chromia wary. Silent Starscream was a very ominous sign. Usually, the only time he didn’t bother mocking her with his phoney courtesy was when he was really pissed.  
  
When the battered femme turned her helm to look her one functioning optic confirmed her fear – Starscream was standing by his terminal, fingers smattering over the keyboard, and was literally fuming.  
  
 _Please, don't let him direct his anger at me,_ Chromia thought, fear growing within her. The seeker was bad enough in when he was in a good mood, but then at least he was more focused on causing humiliation and emotional pain than actual physical harm. When he was angry, truly angry, all such subtleties were thrown out the proverbial window and he was all raw, brutal domination. She wasn't sure she could take such an assault so soon after last time. She'd probably survive, but there was a severe risk that the sparklet would not.  
  
She'd have to tell him. If he turned his attention to her, which she feared but unfortunately didn't doubt he would, she'd have to tell him, it was the only thing that might – _might_ – make him tone down the force of the assault.  
  
Suddenly the quick tapping stopped and the seeker slammed his fist into the panel. Then he swung around, locking his burning red gaze at her. She saw that both his wings were dented and scraped and wondered briefly if the seeker had been successfully jet-judoed by the twins or if he’d simply pushed Megatron one step too far with his insubordination this time. Either way, she would be the one to pay the price.  
  
Even though she had more or less expected it the violent tug at the chain caught her by surprise when it came. Her still undamaged left hand grabbed desperately for the chain, trying to ease the strain as she was dragged across the floor by the mag collar around her neck, but that didn’t stop the edges of the collar to carve into her neck plating. She tried to speak but couldn’t get a sound over her lips - the pressure against her throat was nearly crushing her vocaliser as well as crimping her air and energon lines.  
  
Having dragged her all across the floor towards him Starscream hauled her to her pedes by the chain and then flung her face down on top of his workbench, sending data pads scattering all over the floor. While she struggled with the dizziness caused by the temporarily reduced flow of energon to her processor Chromia noted dimly how the seeker began applying some kind of cuffs, without chains this time, though, to her wrists.  
  
“Starscr...” she began as soon as her vocaliser was operational again but was cut off when said mech gave another harsh tug at the chain, using it to flip her over onto her back. Then he surprisingly began disconnecting the collar.  
  
“Please listen...” she tried again once she regained control of her voice. Again she was silenced, this time by a backhand and a growled “shut up!” Pain flared over the already bruised plating of her face and for a moment her processor was spinning wildly. Then she heard the chain fall to the floor and realised that whatever the seeker was planning would begin any second. She had to make him listen.  
  
“Please, I'm car _hrg_ ”  
  
Her words turned into a strangled squeak as one of Starscream's hands came down in a swift, hard knifehand strike against her throat, momentarily choking her and, which was far worse, crushing her vocaliser entirely. She tried to scream as pain tore through her lines but not the slightest sound left her.

Her intakes were still wheezing for air when the enraged seeker roughly pulled her towards the edge of the bench, allowing her helm to tilt over the edge. She heard him retract his interface cover and moments later felt the sickening touch of his spike against her lips. She badly wanted to lock her jaw shut to keep him away, but knowing what it would cost her to refuse and how little it would help in the end she reluctantly allowed her mouth to be pried open.  
  
Unlike the first time he had forced her to take him orally there was no slow display of mock gentleness this time. The seeker plunged himself in fast, hard and deep, making the already strained sensors in her throat howl in protest. Instinctively Chromia lifted her arm to try to somehow push away from the ruthless invasion but her position was completely locked and her waving hand was soon caught and pressed down beside her. She felt the edge of the desk dig into her neck as her tormentor’s pelvic plating slammed against her face, adding further aches, dents and paint scuffs to her already extensive collection.  
  
Apparently not even in the mood to gloat over her capitulation Starscream began thrusting, giving her no time at all to adjust. Every time the tip of his spike slid down her throat Chromia gagged, and with the pace he’d set it soon turned into one overwhelming blanket of nausea. Furthermore, the air flow had never had time to stabilize after the blow, and the now near-constant blocking of her intake gave her the feeling that her ventilation had stopped completely. She knew - intellectually at least - that that was not the case but with the barrage against her senses it was almost impossible not to go into full-blown panic mode over the apparent lack of air.  
  
It seemed to take an eternity for the air commander to work himself to completion. By the time he finally overloaded, his spike as deep down her throat as it would possibly go, the abused femme’s processor was a whirlwind of discomfort, pain and nausea. When at last he withdrew Chromia barely managed two ragged intakes before her tanks heaved and did what her gag reflex had demanded ever since the rape began. She purged.  
  
Purging, while rarely ever pleasant, is a very uncomfortable thing to do while lying on your back. Chromia turned her helm as far to the side as possible but that didn’t stop some of the half-processed, transfluid-mixed energon from staying in her mouth and getting caught in her intakes, prompting violent fits of coughing and spitting that her frame didn’t really have the energy for.  
  
When her tanks finally stopped heaving Chromia felt completely drained in every possible sense of the word. Drained, humiliated, used and utterly miserable. Her mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died and she still had problems cycling air properly. And topping it all was fear that Starscream would take her purging as an excuse for further punishment.  
  
True enough, whether because of the purging or not, the seeker didn’t leave her in peace for long. With a tight grip on her arm he dragged her off of the desk and threw her aside with such force that she slid halfway across the floor before stopping. Fighting to stop her processor from spinning again Chromia didn’t even hear the irritated “get up!” that was snarled at her. All of a sudden a searing pain rushed along her back strut as the seeker’s pede forcefully connected with the small of her back. Her face contorted and lips parted in a soundless howl she curled up on the floor, trying instinctively to protect her chest and spark chamber from the next blow.  
  
“I said get up!” the air commander growled, directing another kick at her back. Chromia tried frantically to obey, but her hydraulics simply refused to cooperate. Once again an arm was grabbed and she was lifted and flung face first against one of the walls. Before she could slide to the floor again the seeker caught her wrists and pushed them up against the wall, where the dazed femme felt the cuffs magnetise and lock her arms in a wide V shape. 

Seconds later her legs were roughly forced apart and she just had time to think _he can’t possibly go again so soon_ before she was crushed against the wall by the flier’s larger frame and partly lifted from the floor as he entered her. The rocking motion was repeated again and again, constantly intensifying, and even without sensory input from her valve Chromia could tell that the seeker was causing severe damage. She wanted to cry out in protest and pain, to fight, anything to stop the brutal mech that was tearing her apart but she was helpless to do anything but receive the harsh punishment he was dealing her. While her face and chest kept being scraped against the wall with every violent upward thrust of the seekers hips a kind of darkness began to settle down around her mind. Apart from the overdose of bad sensory input the only thing that circled in her processor was the simple but dreadful thought _I can’t take this anymore._  
  
Time ceased to exist, only agony remained.  
  
When Starscream was finally done with her Chromia was on the brink of unconsciousness. As soon as he let go the tormented femme sagged against the wall, hanging by her wrists since her legs refused to support her weight. The seeker left the room without a word, not even bothering to take her down or to give her the evening’s fuel ration.  
  
The complete silence that followed the air commander’s departure only seemed to accentuate the feelings of hopelessness and misery that were growing like a cancer within her. She felt a streak of fluids run down the inside of her thighs, probably the same mix that was seeping from the corner of her mouth. Her throat hurt. Her arms hurt. Her back hurt. The whole area surrounding her numbed valve hurt. Her spark hurt.  
  
 _She_ hurt.  
  
 _I can’t take this… I can’t take this…_  
  
Every being has a limit to its endurance. Chromia had just reached hers.  
  
Scrambling up every ounce of concentration she could manage the blue femme delved deep inside her data banks and located a small inconspicuous program of a kind that was usually only found with black ops agents and other special forces. It was designed to step by step shut her down and finally cut the power links between her spark and her frame, meaning instant and permanent deactivation.  
  
She tried not to think of anything but the forthcoming release from her world of pain and humiliation. She had felt nothing from the sparklet for a long time and didn’t dare to check whether it was still there or not, fearing the knowledge would make her resolve waver.  
  
She entered the first authorisation code.  
  
Instantly her HUD was filled with warnings in red letters, all of which she ignored. Scrolling down the list she entered the second security code to load the program. It took a while before all the files were up and running, and when they were a new dialog box appeared with the simple text “execute command?”.  
  
Chromia shuttered her optics and released a sigh of resignation.  
  
 _I’m sorry, Ironhide. Please forgive me._  
  
Then she triggered the program.  
  
It took five seconds before anything happened. Then came the worst message anyone in her position could get.  
  
“ERROR: Cannot execute.”  
  
No… No, it was not possible. Starscream hadn’t even been inside her data banks, he couldn’t possibly have tampered with the program. Desperately she sent a query for the reason of this failure, expecting to see something about changed access codes. However, the answer she got was quite different.  
  
“Program conflict, gestation protocols override.”  
  
Had she been able to Chromia would have screamed in frustration and complete despair. Having been pushed so far that she’d actually made the decision to end her own life only to suddenly find the way out closed felt like a hard, full system gut punch.  
  
She began sobbing hysterically. She had no tears left to shed but her entire frame shook from the intensity of the emotional storm that raged within her. Somehow her memory initiated a loop and started replaying everything that had happened since the moment of her capture, again and again, every image overlaid by the picture of a smirking seeker with burning optics.

She felt herself being dragged deeper and deeper and wasn’t sure if she feared or welcomed that unknown which lay down there on the bottom, beyond the realm of sanity.  
  
Then suddenly the onslaught faded a little. Groggily, as if being woken from a bad recharge flux, Chromia tried to gather her wits enough to understand what it was that had stopped her descent into madness. Then she felt streams of fear and distress that weren’t her own.  
  
That single moment when surprise and bewilderment broke through the raging storm was enough for the carrier protocols to regain control of her systems. The same deep system coding that had partially caused her distress was now actively helping her to counter it.  
  
 _The sparklet. Calm the sparklet,_ was her first reaction and without analysing further she began pulsing feelings of reassurance, safety and peace over the faint bond. It didn’t matter that she didn’t feel any of those things herself, this was a lie based on instinct and coding deeper than even her own emotional programming and therefore it had the desired effect; the upset feelings receded into something that felt like contentment.  
  
Chromia had heard of this kind of reaction, when carrier coding overrode literally everything in order to guarantee the sparklet’s safety in cases of emergency, but never realised that it could be this strong. On some level way back in her processor she was angry at having yet another agent who took control of her without asking her consent, but her rearranged priorities pushed that thought away. As long as the sparklet was safe, the ‘how’ didn’t matter.  
  
Having confirmed that the immediate threat to the sparklet was gone the emergency protocols of the carrier programming slowly relinquished control of Chromia’s systems and entered observation mode.  
  
The very moment the subroutine withdrew the Autobot femme felt a blanket of utter exhaustion fall over her and she just barely had time to wonder whether she was disappointed or relieved at still being alive before she was plunged into merciful darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings: brutality, attempted suicide


	8. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings in the end notes

Chromia didn’t come back online until several days later. She didn’t know if it was merely her own exhaustion that had kept her under, or if the gestation protocol had anything to do with it, but it didn’t really matter either way. Her frame – the few parts of it she could still feel, that is – felt frail, as if it would crack and fall apart at the slightest touch, and every micron of energy that could be spared was directed from periphery, non-vital systems to her spark chamber, focusing solely on keeping her spark and the little one connected to it from guttering out. She was still hanging in those mag cuffs, as if Starscream hadn’t even touched her since his temper tantrum. Well, maybe he hadn’t, though she found that unlikely. But then again, perhaps he’d grown tired of the game and was merely biding his time until he could figure out the most demeaning way to dispose of her.  
  
For many hours she flickered back and forth between dizzy half-awareness and recharge bordering on unconsciousness. When she finally returned all the way to the surface she noticed that someone was manipulating the mag-cuffs around her wrists. Her vision was too blurry to make out any details, but enough sensors were still online for her to read the EM-field.  
  
Not surprisingly, it was Starscream.  
  
“So, you are awake again,” he said, for once sounding almost neutral. “Well, I have good news for you. Since my _glorious_ leader has apparently decided that it’s beneath a true Decepticon’s dignity to fool around with Autobot prisoners he’s ordered me to get rid of you,” Starscream said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Of course he's only jealous of me having something he hasn't, and naturally he'd never stoop to settle for my leftovers, but unfortunately that doesn't change anything. So, you are going back home.” 

_Home,_ Chromia thought tiredly while the air commander de-magnetised the cuffs and caught her as the sudden lack of support caused her frame to collapse. What an enticing word, home. Being safe, lying in her bondmate's arms, surrounded by friends, no pain anymore... The Autobot femme wished fervently she could believe the seeker's words, but of course it was all lies. She would never be allowed to go back alive, her captor was just trying to get her hopes up in order to be able to crush them when it best suited him.  
  
She winced when the seeker lifted her bridal style and carried her out of the room.   
  
So this was the end. With sudden, grim certainty Chromia knew she was going to die. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel sad or relieved. If it had been only about herself she would have welcomed the release from this Pit hole her life had turned into, but now her death would also kill the developing sparklet, and that made her feelings much more ambivalent. Her carrier programming was urging her to do something, anything in her power to protect her sparkling, while the more logical part of her knew that a quick, painless death would probably be better for it than a harsh and loveless upbringing in the Decepticon army. Neither side was strong enough to completely convince the other but in truth it made little difference. The choice wasn’t hers to make anymore.  
  
She wondered briefly how Starscream was going to kill her. Would it be quick and clean, a shot through her spark, or would he drag it out the way he had with the abuse? Or maybe he wasn’t even planning on doing it himself, maybe he would do what he had threatened in the beginning of her captivity: take her down to the rec room and let the soldiers pass her around until her frame gave up and deactivated. She knew she should have been worried but was frankly too tired to really care.  
  
She slipped into a semi-conscious haze again and didn't return to awareness until Starscream put her down on a slab in what seemed to be some kind of laboratory. To her surprise he then proceeded to apply restraints to her arms, legs, waist and neck. The whole process seemed ridiculously exaggerated since she could barely move anyway, as it were, but maybe the seeker just wanted to take away any illusion of freedom during her last moments in life.  
  
As if it would make any difference at this stage.  
  
She was just about to zone out again when she felt something being connected to her side. At first she couldn’t pinpoint it exactly but suddenly a feeling of pleasant warmth began flowing through her and she realised with astonishment that Starscream had hooked her up to an energon line. While her starving systems absorbed the fuel like a dry sponge Chromia tried to make sense of the situation. Why would the seeker bother refuelling her? Why waste the energon when she was going to die soon anyway?   
  
Then she thought back and it dawned upon her that the air commander had never actually said he was going to kill her. That had been her interpretation; the words he had used were ‘get rid of’. And then something about Megatron and jealousy, and then…  
  
Thinking gradually became easier as her energy levels began climbing from the constant near-bottom level they had occupied for so long and almost against her will a small glimmer of hope began flickering somewhere within her. It went against everything she knew, everything her experience told her, but what if… _what if_ the seeker had actually been telling the truth about letting her go. He would never do so just out of concern for her, of course, but if it was an act of defiance, a way of bending Megatron’s order just to prove his displeasure with it… Seen from that point of view it _did_ seem like a very Starscream thing to do.   
  
Well, she would have her answer soon enough. 

Starscream looked down at the femme on the slab in front of him, internally smiling at her obvious confusion. She had not yet noticed that he was already connected to her and therefore could ‘hear’ most of what went on in her mind. She was partially correct in assuming this was all an act of defiance against his presumptuous leader, who had the audacity to meddle in things that technically were none of his fragging business. And for all her difficulty believing it, the part about him sending her back home was actually true as well, though not quite in the way she’d probably like it to be.  
  
 _“So…”_ he said right into her processor and grinned – openly this time – when he saw her jolt in shock, _“coherent enough to talk yet?”_  
  
It took a few seconds for the blue femme to recover enough from the surprise at hearing him inside her to be able to answer.  
  
 _”Why are you doing this?”_ was the first question that leapt to her mind.  
  
 _”Refuelling you?”_ the seeker asked, feigning surprise. _”Why, to make sure you survive the trip home, of course. It would be such a pity if you died before meeting your friends again, wouldn’t it?”_  
  
Chromia didn’t think “pity” was quite the proper word to use under these circumstances but was too tired to rise to the taunt.  
  
 _”Do you expect me to believe you’ll send me back just like that… after all you’ve done to me?”_ she asked, even her mental voice thin and weak but cold as ice.  
  
 _”Why not?”_ said the seeker and leaned closer until his face was almost touching hers. _”After all, it is a perfect opportunity to sneak a few extra… surprises behind enemy lines.”_  
  
The restrained femme glared in silent hatred at him, but the seeker didn’t give any further explanations. True, he would slip a few viruses into her systems before sending her away just for the heck of it, but the true reason he was letting her go instead of killing her was a psychological one.   
  
A dead friend was a dead friend, a closed chapter, someone you would mourn and, with time, leave behind you. A living friend who had been tortured almost beyond recognition would serve as a constant reminder of exactly what the price of fighting the Decepticons could be. That in turn would trigger either of two reactions: fear or anger. A warrior who fears his opponent is at disadvantage from the beginning, and the warrior who fights with anger often has his judgment clouded by it. Whether she finally recovered or not – right now he estimated her chances to about 50/50 and that was going to go down a bit in a few minutes - for a long time Chromia’s mere presence would be a poison to all who knew her, and the best part was that they would probably not even realise it.  
  
 _”But,”_ he continued, turning around to pick up a strange tool that Chromia had never seen before, _”before we send you on your way we have a little procedure to take care of.”_ He made a pause for effect, then tapped meaningly on her chest plates. _”Because you are not taking that sparklet with you.”_  
  
Chromia’s world stopped at those words.  
  
 _”You… you knew!”_ was the only thing her shocked processor could get out.  
  
 _”Of course I knew,”_ the seeker sneered. _”How big a fool do you take me for? I’ve kept all your systems monitored for as long as you’ve been here. The change in spark signature was impossible to miss.”_  
  
He had known. Had known all along, and still he had... And now he was going to…  
  
 _”You can’t extract it!”_ she said, trembling with dark foreboding. _”It’s too young, you might kill it.”_  
  
Starscream met her gaze without the slightest change of expression.  
  
 _”So?”_  
  
The Autobot femme hardly knew what to do with that reply.  
  
 _”But… but it’s yours too,”_ she stammered, cold fear closing in on her spark.  
  
The seeker shrugged.  
  
 _”So what if my energy kindled it? I fail to see why that should make me care.”_  
  
Chromia was completely stunned. Surely, not even Starscream could be that unfeeling? It had to be a trick, some horrible act on his part.  
  
Then she felt how he tracked down that command in her processor and triggered her chest plates open and realised with tank-churning horror that the seeker was in earnest. He was seriously going to do it. 

_”Noooooo!”_ she cried in complete panic. Her lips echoed the scream even though no audible sound emerged and she threw herself against the restraints with all the force she could muster, completely ignoring the searing pain from her many wounds. Supported by the elevated energy levels and a carrier program running in full attack mode she fought with a strength she hadn’t possessed in weeks, but it was not enough. The restraints held.  
  
 _”No, don’t!”_ she screamed as she felt how her spark chamber was forced open as well. _”Oh please, sweet Primus, don’t!”_ She knew Starscream couldn’t hear her any longer, having withdrawn and disconnected as soon as her chest was open, but she had to have some outlet for her panic and kept screaming in total silence.  
  
The air commander placed his free hand on the helm of his helplessly struggling prisoner, then bent down and placed a kiss on her cheek.  
  
”Goodbye, my dear,” he said with a smile.  
  
Then he stuck the strange tool into the exposed spark chamber, closed it almost gently around the tiny orb of vibrating light nestled next to the restrained femme’s spark and slowly pulled it out.  
  
Every cable in Chromia’s frame tensed to the point of snapping when she felt the connection to the sparklet weakening, weakening…  
  
Then suddenly everything turned white.  
  
And then everything turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings: forced extraction/perceived sparklet death


	9. A Glimmer of Hope

Everything was mist. Somewhere in the distance there was pain, too, but she felt oddly disconnected from it. It seemed much more important to find a way through the grey, swiveling fog, even though she didn’t really know where she was going or what she was looking for. But she knew it was important.  
  
Suddenly she caught a swift movement in her peripheral vision but when she whirled around to face it there was nothing there. A feeling of dread and dark foreboding settled down over her, yet she couldn’t have said why. She turned around again – and found herself in the shadow of a large seeker with burning crimson optics.  
  
“Hello, my dear,” the ghostly apparition said and she caught the flash of glimmering white denta as it… _he_ grinned at her. “Just where do you think you are going? Did you really think I would allow you to leave… with _him_?”  
  
All of a sudden Chromia realized she was holding a tiny sparkling in her arms. The fragile little frame was trembling with fear and she pressed it tighter to her chest in a totally futile gesture of protection. Desperately looking around the femme discovered that walls had appeared out of the mist, enclosing her on all sides. There was no escape.  
  
“You won’t take him,” she said defiantly, though the tremble in her voice gave away her fear. “I won’t let you.”  
  
“Haven’t you learnt yet that I can take whatever I want?” the seeker said, sounding almost amused. “Very well, try and stop me if you can.”  
  
At those words all energy seeped away from Chromia’s limbs and she weakly sank to her knees with a defeated whimper. The whimper turned into a desperate, pleading cry as she felt her sparkling being torn from her powerless arms by the laughing seeker.  
  
“No! Noooo!”  
  
She frantically tried to get up on her pedes and lunge at the fiend that had taken her sparkling, but it was all in vain. Starscream threw the little mechling to the side, where some… _thing_ caught it, engulfed it, swallowed it. Then the seeker hurled himself at Chromia.  
  
“It’s time you learn, my dear,” he hissed as he pinned her to the ground, suddenly twice his normal size “that you cannot escape me – ever.” A hand was pressed heavily against her chest plates, fingers brutally digging into the sore plating. “And now it is time for your punishment.”  
  
Chromia screamed as her demons attacked her once again.  
  
***  
  
Ratchet carefully wiped his hands on a piece of cloth, and then couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze it into a crumbled little ball and hurl it across the intensive care unit. Being a first rate medic with long experience he had seen pretty much every kind of damage there is more times than he cared to remember, but this…  
  
He had hardly believed his own audios when the scouting team had commed him, telling him that Starscream had just – literally – dropped Chromia at them and that she was badly damaged, offline but alive. Pushing all questions of “how” and “why” away for later consideration the medic had immediately dispatched an aerial retrieval team, forwarded the info to Prime along with a strong recommendation not to let Ironhide know yet – not until they knew how bad it was at least, the ‘Cons had been known to return prisoners who were beyond repair – and then sent First Aid to prepare the ICU while he himself checked the memory files sent by the scouts to get as good a picture as possible of what kind of damage he would have to deal with.  
  
What he’d seen had had him fuming. True enough, the seeker had simply approached the patrolling mechs, airborne but in root mode, not bothering to stay out of weapon’s range since he was carrying the most effective kind of shield in his arms.  
  
 _”Here’s a little gift for you, Autoscum,”_ he had snarled, letting the unconscious femme dangle by one arm. _”Catch!”  
_

With that he had dropped her, obviously knowing that none of the mechs below would be able to catch her before she hit the ground. The fall may not have been very high but it was still enough to bruise even a bot who landed correctly. Which the battered femme had not.  
  
 _I am going to tear that slagger to pieces if ever I get my hands on him,_ Ratchet had promised himself while making what observations he could through the scouts’ optics and from their basic scans. Then more detailed data had begun streaming from the med team that had finally reached the spot and the white and red medic had pushed the murderous rage aside in order to deal as efficiently as possible with what would undoubtedly become a very difficult repair job.  
  
Now, after almost 14 hours of fighting against failing systems and corrupted coding, said rage was re-emerging with a vengeance. The repairs were nowhere near done, but there was only so much he could do all at once. If he moved on too quickly there was a severe risk that her weakened systems wouldn’t integrate the new components properly or possibly even reject them altogether. But she was as stable as he could make her at the moment, and it was time to let her bondmate know.  
  
Ratchet commed Prime.  
  
“The first stage of repairs is complete,” he said, not bothering to clarify further. “She is weak but alive. You may tell him.”  
  
Not even five minutes later he heard pounding steps approach the medbay and moments later Ironhide burst in through the door. The weapons specialist looked ragged and tired but his optics were burning with an intensity that Ratchet had never seen before, a combination of shock, disbelief, fear, worry and hope.  
  
“Where?” was the only thing he said, even his voice sounding frayed. Stepping aside, the white medic made a gesture towards one of the smaller rooms of the ICU.  
  
“She is stable for the time being but be careful,” he warned his friend. “There’s still a lot of damage, I can only replace so much at a time without exhausting her systems.”  
  
Ironhide merely nodded absently, the rest of the world obviously forgotten the moment his optics focused on the unmoving shape on the med berth, nearly completely covered by a silvery sheet. Slowly he approached, as if fearing that the vision before him was an illusion that would disappear if he moved too swiftly.  
  
Hesitantly, with an uncharacteristically shaking hand he reached out and gently took one of her hands in his. A tremor went through his entire frame at the connection and he sank to his knees beside the berth, intakes hitching with suddenly released emotion.  
  
Ratchet closed the door.  
  
***  
  
Ironhide had no idea for how long he merely sat there, trying to take in the fact that this was indeed Chromia lying there in front of him, battered, bruised and unconscious but blessedly alive. There was such a chaos of emotions swirling within him that he could hardly tell what he felt more. Relief that she was alive? Horror at what she had obviously been subjected to for the bond to be broken? Anger at the ones responsible? Joy that there was still a hope of recovering what he had thought irrevocably lost? He didn’t know, it was simply too much to try to analyse it all at once.  
  
He noted absently how strange it was, looking at her and not feeling the familiar little surge in his spark. The loss of the bond, the loss of _her_ had very nearly destroyed him and he couldn’t even begin to understand how she had managed to survive it, hurting and alone among enemies, without the support of friends and safety. Deep inside he knew that there was a risk that the femme in front of him would never again be the Chromia he knew and loved, that there could be wounds no medic would ever be able to heal, but he resolutely pushed those fears aside. She would recover, had to recover. He had lost her once and he’d be damned if he allowed her to be lost again. 

Longingly he laid his palm against the side of her face and let his thumb slowly caress her cheek, careful to avoid the fresh welds and the patch that was currently covering her left optic. He wanted so badly to be able to reach out to her, feel her, let her know he was there and always would be.  
  
“Please, Chromia, come back,” he whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him but feeling the need to speak the words anyway. “Please come back te me.”  
  
***  
  
She was cold.  
  
So horribly, bitterly cold.  
  
And she knew even in her decidedly less than rational state of mind that it had nothing to do with external temperature.   
  
No, this was a chill of the spirit, a creeping emotional frost, and yet she was sure she could physically feel it seep through her frame like an oily liquid, slowly but inevitably drowning her. And she couldn’t find it in her to fight it. It was as if the fire that had burned so brightly within her all her function had now faded to nothing more than a faintly glowing ember, barely strong enough to keep her functioning at all and definitely not powerful to drive out the numbing cold or even keep it at bay for very long.  
  
Now and then she could feel small ripples of something similar to warmth but they were faint like echoes of a voice calling from the other side of the galaxy, and by the time she’d registered their presence they would already be fading. Even so they stirred something within her that almost made her wish for… something. She didn’t know exactly what and it didn’t matter since she didn’t deserve it anyway. Probably those echoes were nothing but the last remains of her self-preservation coding that tried to rebel against the growing lethargy she felt and knew she would succumb to sooner or later. Probably sooner.  
  
And maybe that was all for the best. After all, what did she have to return to? Everything that mattered had been torn from her. She was marred, ruined, merely the leftover of a seeker’s cruel perversities. Never would she be able to look at herself and feel anything but disgust. Never would she be able to look her bond… _former_ bondmate in the optics, fearing to see the same disgust there. Never could she touch anyone again, lest they be stained by her degradation. Never be a carrier. Never even be useful as a soldier.  
  
She had failed.  
  
 _Failed._  
  
Failed her duties as an Autobot and officer. Failed to ward off her enemy’s attack. Failed to stop him from using her. Failed her beloved’s love and trust. Failed to save and protect her sparklet.  
  
 _FAILED!_  
  
How could she even presume to have any right to live after so many betrayals? She didn’t deserve to be saved, she deserved to die like the piece of filth she had become.  
  
And if the spreading cold was anything to go by she wouldn’t have to wait much longer.  
  
***  
  
”Ironhide, she’s fading.”  
  
The red mech lifted his weary gaze from the face of his unconscious mate and met the medic’s optics with an accusing stare.  
  
“Waddaya mean, she’s fadin’?” he asked, his voice a mix of denial and frustration. “Yesterday ya said the repairs were proceedin’ fine.”  
  
“Yesterday they were,” Ratchet replied with a tired exvent, sweeping a hand over his face and optics. He was almost as drained as Ironhide, albeit on a different plane. “But now the self-repair process has come to a nearly complete standstill and her spark signature is getting weaker by the hour. I fear that in her spark, Chromia has already given up.”  
  
The weapons specialist flew from his seat and was in the medic’s personal space within moments.  
  
“Don’t ya say that, don’t ya ever say that!” he snarled heatedly. “Ya can’t give up on her, not now!”  
  
Ratchet raised his hands in a gesture for Ironhide to calm down, which the red mech did only marginally.  
  
“Believe me, ‘Hide,” the medic said, “I’m doing everything I can, but this isn’t only physical damage we’re dealing with. With trauma of this magnitude it’s not unknown for victims to entirely lose the _will_ to recover, and there’s very little I can do about that.”  
  
The big weapons specialist sank back against the med berth and his face took on a look of thinly veiled desperation.  
  
“But… there must be somethin’ we can do,” he said, almost pleadingly. “Ah can’t lose her again, Ratch. Ah can’t just sit ‘ere and watch her die.”

Ratchet sighed. He had feared all along that it might come to this but had hoped and prayed to be proven wrong. Well, so much for that.  
  
“There is one thing,” he began slowly, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. “At this level of stasis there are very few processes active, mainly the deepest emotional ones. Therefore it’s highly unlikely Chromia even knows she is free, that you are here and have no intention of pushing her away – in short, that there are still reasons for her to live. If you could reach her, make her aware of this, she might find the strength of will to return to us.”  
  
“How am Ah supposed te do that when she can’t even ‘ear me, much less understand?” Ironhide commented, frustration once again colouring his voice.  
  
Ratchet considered for a second if there was some way of toning down the answer but realised it wouldn’t make any difference.  
  
 _Here goes…_  
  
“You’ll have to merge sparks with her.”  
  
Much as Ratchet had expected, those words triggered another explosion of the currently very volatile mech’s temper.  
  
“WHAT!?!” Ironhide shouted, balling his hands into fists and glaring daggers at the medic. “Ya want me te initiate a merge with ‘er, while she’s still unconscious and has no say in the matter?! How can ya even suggest such a thing!?! After what tha’ _fragger_ did to ‘er, how can ya think she’ll react with anythin’ but blind terror? And did ya really think even for a moment that Ah could ever force a merge upon someone, least of all mah bondmate? Who the frag do ya take me for?”  
  
He took a deep invent as if trying to control himself and Ratchet took the opportunity to cut in.  
  
“First of all, Ironhide, I’m NOT saying you should _force_ a merge upon Chromia, and if I didn’t know just how badly stressed you are at the moment you would have the biggest wrench I could find firmly embedded in your cranial plating for even thinking I’d suggest such a thing.”  
  
“But ya said…”  
  
“I know what I said, but you didn’t let me finish. You are to _offer_ your spark to her, not heave it upon her. It’s not supposed to be a sexual merge either, more like how you share strength over the bond, only this time there has to be a physical connection. Even with the bond broken her spark will recognise yours and if there is still some part left of her spirit she should latch on to you. That is when you have a chance to let her feel your emotions and hopefully that will be enough to turn her around and give her the motivation to fight for survival.”  
  
Ironhide’s anger seemed to have been completely derailed by Ratchet’s explanation.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked. “If I coulda helped ‘er so easily, why didn’t we do it earlier?”  
  
“Because the procedure is dangerous and not to be used other than as a last resort” the medic replied. “There is a risk that her mind is too fragmented to recognise you, and if so she may believe she’s being assaulted again and react accordingly. Such a shock would cause further damage and could even kill her in her current state. And if your sparks do successfully connect but you fail to convince her, the results will be the same only you will be dragged down as well. Are you willing to accept those risks, for you as well as for her?"  
  
Ratchet had no doubt as to what answer he’d receive but felt obliged to ask anyway.  
  
“Ah’ll do it,” Ironhide replied without hesitation. “Ah’ll gladly lay down everything Ah have and am if it will improve ‘er odds of survivin’. What do Ah do?”  
  
“Not quite so fast,” Ratchet objected. ”You do realise that if she lets you in you will be feeling _everything_ she feels? All of it. At once. Not filtered or controlled by conscious thoughts or consideration but the full emotional blast of what she’s lived through, what she’s dealing with. I can promise you it’s going to be painful. She’s had time to build up some amount of resistance to the increased strain, but you’ll have to face it all head-on.”  
  
“Ah’ll do it,” Ironhide repeated with determination.  
  
“Once the connection is made you must not hesitate or pull back,” Ratchet went on. “If she opens up to you and you waver she may take that as rejection and break the connection, and that she will not survive.”  
  
“Ah understand.” 

“Good. I cannot tell you exactly what you’ll see or how much she’ll be able to hide, but no matter what you come across you must not hold it against her.”  
  
“Do ya really think Ah blame _‘er_ for any of this, Ratch?”  
  
“No, I don’t, but she probably blames herself and expects everyone else to do the same. That is why it’s so important that you constantly send her all the love, care and devotion you can manage, regardless what happens.”  
  
Here the medic stopped for a moment, knowing he must now tell his friend something that would hurt him immensely.  
  
“And in order to do that, you must know one more thing about Chromia’s ordeal.”  
  
Ironhide looked his fellow Autobot firmly in the optics.  
  
“Ya mean there’s somethin’ ya haven’t yet told me?” he asked, not quite sure if he should be surprised, angry or worried.  
  
“Yes, there is” Ratchet replied, “and I’m afraid you won’t like it. I had hoped Chromia herself would be able to tell you once she felt ready, or at least that I could obtain her permission to tell you, but if this merge is going to help her you must have all the data to be properly prepared.  
  
Ironhide frowned. It was unlike the medic to skirt around an issue like this.  
  
“Ratchet, what is it yer not tellin’ me?”  
  
“There is a reason her spark is so badly fragmented, Ironhide,” Ratchet explained. “You know what one broken bond did to you – she has had to endure two.”  
  
“Two?” Ironhide echoed, feeling worry mix with confusion.   
  
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the medic went on, “but at some point during her captivity Chromia kindled.”  
  
The red mech felt his world spin around him.  
  
“Kindled?” he said weakly. “Ya mean she… she’s carryin’?”  
  
“No, not anymore,” Ratchet replied, wondering for a second how things would have gone had that been the case. “From what I can deduce the sparklet was either extinguished or prematurely extracted just before she was returned here.”  
  
There was a moment of total silence.  
  
“Ya mean to say,” Ironhide said slowly, voice trembling with rage, “that that FRAGGER didn’t only force himself upon ‘er, he got ‘er carryin’ and then killed the sparklet?!”  
  
“It may well have been a spontaneous extinguishing considering her poor state of health, but essentially, yes.”  
  
Ironhide shuttered his optics and vented deeply, as if the extra air would somehow help him control the burning fury that raged within him. Then he took five rapid strides away from the medic and the berth with the motionless femme and rammed his fists into the wall as hard as he could, roaring obscenities and curses in an outburst that rivalled even Ratchet at his worst.   
  
The medic didn’t stop him, knowing the feelings needed out. If sore knuckles and a dented wall was what it took for Ironhide to calm down again, then it was a reasonable price indeed. When the red mech had first found out how Chromia had been abused it had taken the combined efforts of Optimus, Ratchet and Sideswipe to stop him from trashing the entire medbay.  
  
Finally the weapons specialist’s violent onslaught faded and he stood panting with his forehelm and palms against the battered wall, still murmuring between clenched dentae.  
  
“I’ll kill ‘im… I’ll kill ‘im…”  
  
Ratchet decided it was time to intervene and approached carefully, putting a comforting hand on the red mech’s shoulder. Ironhide started as if pulled out of a disturbed recharge and turned his helm to meet Ratchet’s gaze. The medic felt his spark lurch at the sheer depth of emotion he saw there. He knew as well as any how much the pair longed for a sparkling, and learning that his bondmate had been unwillingly sparked by another and then had had to deal with the loss of said sparklet, tortured and alone, must be painful beyond imagining for the weapons specialist.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ratchet said quietly, knowing there was little more he could do at the moment. Ironhide gave a curt nod, the only sign that he had caught and appreciated his friend’s words, then straightened and turned back towards Chromia’s med berth.  
  
“All right,” he said, “let’s do this.”


	10. The Essence of Love

Without uttering a single word Ironhide helped Ratchet move another med berth to stand next to Chromia’s while the medic quickly described the process ahead of them. Then Ironhide settled down on his side and waited, barely paying any attention to the mech hooking him up to a set of monitors. All his focus was now on the femme in front of him.  
  
Chromia.  
  
He shuddered when he thought of what that fragging Decepticon had done to her and he hoped and prayed he would be able to help her recover when – he refused to think _if_ \- she returned to consciousness. He still felt guilty over the fact that he hadn’t been there for her, hadn’t been able to save her. He knew that there wasn’t really anything he could have done, but no matter how logical such reasoning was it had little effect on his remorse. He _should_ have known she wasn’t dead, even when the bond broke. He _should_ have gone looking for her. He shouldn’t have given up hope.  
  
Well, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure he never failed her like that again. She would survive, he _would_ reach her and make her understand that she was his everything, his very reason for existing, and that he would spend the rest of his life making sure that no-one ever hurt her again.  
  
His internal soliloquy was interrupted as Ratchet entered his field of vision and carefully turned Chromia’s limp frame to lie on its side facing Ironhide, placing her as close to the red mech as possible without their chests actually touching. Then white and red mech used his medical override codes to open Chromia’s chest plates and spark chamber, and Ironhide couldn’t help but feeling another surge of guilt when he saw the protective plating of his very much unconscious mate slide apart, revealing the flickering light of her fading spark. It was impossible not to draw parallels between what they were doing and what Starscream had done, even though neither their motives nor their intentions were anywhere near the same.   
  
_Never again,_ the weapons specialist promised once more.  
  
For a brief moment his optics connected with those of Ratchet and the medic gave a small nod, indicating that everything was set, and then left the room.  
  
Pushing all other thoughts aside Ironhide commanded his chest plates open and then allowed the cover of his spark casing to retract as well, exposing his spark completely. Shuttering his optics he focused on his love for Chromia, allowed it to fill his entire being and project in mild pulses through his spark. He tried to convey how much he cared for her, treasured her, longed for her, needed her.  
  
And then he waited.  
  
***  
  
It was almost over. Just like the last grains of sand in a sand glass she felt how her very life force diminished, shrank towards a single point where it just disappeared and left her empty.   
  
Had she been able to put words on her emotions at that moment relief and regret would have been on top of the list, though she couldn’t quite remember why anymore. All she knew was that there was a deep, throbbing ache that wasn’t lessened by the otherwise numbing cold and that she had to get away from it no matter the cost. And that black hole of nothingness hovering alluringly just ahead of her seemed so inviting…  
  
She only had a few paces left when she was suddenly made aware of something else there in the darkness around her, something more than cold desolation. It was a presence, a warmth that called out to her, begged her to come. She didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to wait a moment longer for the enticing promise of freedom and peace lying beyond the black oblivion that was deactivation, but the presence did not fade and she found herself inexplicably drawn towards it. I felt so… right. It was safe. It was home.  
  
Slowly, almost reluctantly she turned and focused on it. It was shining like a beacon through her icy darkness, tempting her with a memory of how it felt not to be cold.  
  
She took a metaphorical step towards it.

The warmth that swept over her was like a caress, a gentle breeze that took some the frost with it as it flew by. It felt marvellous.  
  
She ventured a little closer.  
  
The feeling of warmth seemed to take on different nuances, the way white light turns into a rainbow of colours when going through a prism. She couldn’t name the different elements but together they formed a whole that felt so _right_ that she found herself unable to resist it.  
  
She reached out and embraced it.  
  
All of a sudden a jolt went through her and the impressions intensified tenfold. Beginning to reach some level of coherency, though still far below consciousness, she tried to understand what was happening and froze when she felt the presence of someone else within her very spark. Fear gripped her and she tore herself away, finding to her surprise that nothing stopped her. Instead of the harsh pressure she’d been expecting there was joy, concern, protectiveness, care, longing, desire, comfort and an overwhelming stream of _love_ pulsing all around her, shining so brightly that it seemed to eclipse everything else. She yearned with every fibre of her being to let herself be swept up in that feeling of safety but she didn’t dare to put her trust in it. She now remembered the pain and anguish she had suffered the last time someone had entered her spark and she mentally curled in on herself, waiting for the torment to begin.  
  
But pain never came. Only that warm, unconditional feeling of love. Step by step it worked its way into her mind, slowly burning away the cold and the cobwebs of fear from her spark and processor, bringing her another step away from the abyss and towards consciousness.  
  
Carefully, still only dimly aware of her actions, she sent a small inquiring pulse towards the presence she as yet couldn’t put a name on. It was met with a surge of _joy-love-protection_ that was so strong she couldn’t doubt its sincerity. She didn’t understand yet, but feeling how her own life force seemed to glow in response to the emotions fed to her she felt a need to somehow respond.  
  
She pulsed _gratefulness-confusion_ in return and was met with _reassurance-comfort-love_. There was also something more, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, though she had a feeling it was very important.  
  
Suddenly something klicked in her processor and she realised what it was.  
  
Ironhide.  
  
Memories came rushing back and Chromia sagged under their weight. Ironhide. Bondmate. Starscream. Torture. Abuse. Lost bond. Pain. Sparklet. _Lost_ sparklet.  
  
Another wave of _comfort-love_ washed over her and she keened at the feeling. She wanted it so badly but how could she reach for it when doing so would mean he’d know? He’d _know_ , and then he would hate her. The only reason he was sending those feelings now was because he didn’t know that she was broken, tarnished, a failure.  
  
She must have given away more of her emotions over the connection than she had intended because the next wave was filled with _understanding-acceptance-comfort-love_ , and it proved her undoing.  
  
With a flash of desperation all her inhibitions came crashing down and she threw herself into him, a flood of raw emotion accompanied by _apology-sorrow-self-loathing-supplication_. Soon images followed as she lost control and heaved all her misery upon him, scared to death of the inevitable disgust and subsequent rejection but unable to hold anything back.   
  
There was her capture. The first hacking and rape. The degradation and pain of each following assault. The breaking of the bond. The fear and worry for Ironhide, and then the small mercy of finding out that he was alive. The realisation that she was sparked. More pain and helplessness. The attempted suicide. The forced extraction of the sparklet. Darkness. Fluxes. Despair.  
  
Once the onslaught of memories and feelings abated Chromia mentally curled up into a tiny ball, shivering and waiting for the backlash of revulsion and loathing.  
  
It didn’t come. Instead feelings of _acceptance-consolation-love_ reached out for her from the entity she now knew was the spark of her bondmate. There was anger and hatred as well but they were distant and not directed at her. 

No words could have described the utter _relief_ that surged through Chromia the moment she realised that the rejection she had feared and expected would never come. Ironhide didn’t hate her. He knew and he still did not hate her. Chromia didn’t feel like she deserved such unconditional acceptance and forgiveness but it had been granted anyway. Had she been told in words she would have refused to believe it, would have thought it a well-meant lie, but spark to spark such untruths were impossible.  
  
 _Chromia_  
  
The blue femme felt another bubble of emotion threatening to burst as she heard her name spoken for the first time in what seemed like ages. The voice was low and pleasant and as caring and loving as the pulses against her spark.  
  
Slowly she onlined her visual system, noting in passing that half of it was still not responding, and found herself looking straight into a pair of deep blue optics set in the tired but jubilant face of…  
  
“’Hide?” she said, voice hardly more than a whisper.  
  
The smile that spread over said mech’s lip plates could have easily rivalled any sunrise in radiance.  
  
“Chromia.”  
  
No more words were exchanged. Instead Ironhide slowly put his arms around his mate and ever so gently pulled her into his embrace. Chromia was still too weak to return the gesture but gratefully let her helm rest against her mate’s chest, allowing her singing spark to speak for her.  
  
That was how Ratchet found them a while later, both in exhausted but peaceful and much needed recharge. Through the monitors the medic had followed the entire procedure from outside and he had known from the readings the exact moment when Chromia finally stabilized. He hoped neither of the two would ever have to realise just how close the femme’s spark had been to guttering out completely.  
  
With a rare smile on his lip components Ratchet disconnected the monitoring equipment from Ironhide’s frame and carefully adjusted Chromia’s before leaving the pair to rest in peace and quiet. The two of them still had a long way to go and doubtlessly there would be quite some time and many obstacles to overcome before either of them could be considered fully healed. But at least now healing was possible and the medic knew his two friends would be there for each other, whatever the future had in store for them.  
  
Casting one last look at the entwined pair Ratchet shut the door and went to get some recharge of his own.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warning: Evil cliffhanger

Recovery had been a long and arduous journey. It had been months before Chromia could even leave the med bay, before Ratchet had finally managed to repair every part of her frame and clear her systems from viruses and corrupted coding.  
  
Then there had been the emotional damage, which had taken considerably longer to heal. Even now, almost 26 vorns later, Chromia still suffered recharge fluxes from time to time, though they had lessened in both intensity and frequency.  
  
There had been times when she had almost been ready to give up, nights when she was plagued by horrible fluxes and attacks of phantom pain, but with the support of her friends and the help of the re-established bond with Ironhide she had made it through even the blackest moments.  
  
Even as things began to return to normal there had of course been ups and downs in the progress, and a few accidents. Like for instance the time when Smokescreen had approached her from behind in the common room, unwittingly put his hand on her shoulder and said ‘hello, my dear’. The resulting outburst had put the Praxian in the medbay for two days and Chromia had been horrified at the damage she in blind terror had inflicted on a fellow Autobot.  
  
The biggest challenge, though, had been returning to the battlefield, knowing that her nemesis could turn up anywhere and at any time. It had taken over 11 vorns before she could begin venturing out into battle without freezing at the mere sight of the Air Commander, and more time still before she could handle him face to face. 

As soon as she’d been able to talk about it Chromia had asked her bondmate as well as her friends not to specifically go after Starscream to exact revenge. Not that she would ever forgive the seeker – she would hate him with her entire spark until the day she offlined – but she didn’t want any of her fellow Autobots to put themselves in unnecessary peril just for the sake of revenge. Ironhide had grumbled quite a bit about that, but finally promised to respect her wish. The others did as well, but there was still an astonishing rise in reports of Starscream having “accidentally” been hit by this or that “stray shot” and Chromia couldn’t help but appreciate this silent support. The only time she showed her appreciation, though, was when the twins had excitedly recounted for anyone inclined to listen how their bondmate had shot the Decepticon Air Commander right in the crotch. Bluestreak’s faceplates had heated remarkably as he mumbled an explanation along the lines of “I was aiming for his wings but he made a sudden turn and it just so happened…”  
  
Chromia had silenced the young sharpshooter’s rambling with a hug and a kiss on his cheek.  
  
There was one physical trace of her ordeal that never seemed to go away, though. Every now and then she would suffer an increase in spark frequency, which left her dizzy and slightly nauseous for a couple of days. Even Ratchet couldn’t say with certainty what the ailment was, though its origin was in all likelihood the traumatic extraction of the not yet fully developed sparklet she had carried. Her spark seemed to be somehow trying to complete the gestation, even though there was no longer a sparklet there to nurture.  
  
The seizures came randomly and were never severe enough to completely incapacitate her, though she was always put on light duty for a few days afterwards. In the beginning this had annoyed her – after all, support was one thing, mollycoddling something else in her opinion – but once she’d realised that she didn’t have to keep proving herself to the point of idiocy, neither to her faction or to herself, she had accepted it, albeit somewhat grudgingly. Usually it meant being stuck on guard or monitor duty.  
  
The former of which was the case on this occasion.  
  
Chromia gave a little annoyed exvent. Her first shift for the day was in the brig, and if guard duty in general was tedious, guard duty in the brig was doubly so. But, it had to be done all the same, and in fact Chromia was quite proud of herself that she had managed to return even to this. After all, prisoners quite often had nothing better to do than trying to provoke a reaction from the guards, and since some Cons knew her history they inevitably brought it up. In the beginning that had been extremely hard to deal with, but she had finally come to some sort of peace with her past and although it wasn’t something she particularly liked discussing it didn’t upset her the way it had before.  
  
Today seemed to be pretty quiet, though. Currently only two cells were occupied, both with Autobots who were on punishment detail for brawling, meaning there wasn’t all that much “guarding” to do.  
  
Once the blue femme had relieved the previous guard on duty she made herself as comfortable as possible, set her sensors on maximum as per regulations and let her mind wander. She had spent the morning energon exchanging gossip with Moonracer, who had apparently caught Jazz red-handed in one of his attempts to woo their stoic head tactician. Chromia couldn’t really understand what the lively saboteur saw in the uptight Praxian SIC, but the tableau Moonracer had described was undeniably hilarious and she wished she had seen it with her own optics.  
  
Nothing much happened for the next couple of hours, except that one of the locked-up bots was released to face the second part of his punishment, which turned out to be doing inventory for Ratchet. If the look on the mech’s face was anything to go by he would rather have remained in his cell and Chromia couldn’t blame him. Ratchet may be an excellent medic but his patience with trouble-makers was legendary thin and working for him could be – as one of the twins had so elegantly put it – “like working with a live bomb glaring at you.” 

It was nearing the end of her shift when the monotony was broken again as Inferno and Trailbreaker arrived with a new prisoner in tow. This one was obviously a Decepticon, the purple insignia contrasting against grey fields in his otherwise predominatingly dark blue plating.  
  
“Oh come on, guys,” she said with feigned dismay as she let the trio in, “did you really have to go and catch a ‘Con today of all days? I was having such a nice and peaceful shift, and then you bring someone I’ll actually have to watch!”  
  
Her two fellow Autobots grinned at her.  
  
“I’m afraid so, Chromia,” Trailbreaker said, adopting a rueful expression that wouldn’t have fooled a sparkling. “Please accept our most humble apologies for the bad timing.”  
  
“Humble, my aft,” Chromia said with a laugh, swatting the dark mech on the arm. “So, what do we have here?” she asked as the two mechs stashed the surprisingly docile Decepticon in one of the cells and activated the bars.  
  
“Infiltrator,” Inferno replied, smiling his usual cocky smile. “Not a very good one, though, Red Alert caught him before he was even through the outer defence grid.”  
  
“Well, Red Alert even catches Jazz on occasion,” Chromia replied, “and he’s the best of the best, so I wouldn’t judge anyone too harshly just for getting spotted by Red – that mech is so perceptive it’s almost creepy sometimes.”  
  
“I’ll tell him you said that,” the fire truck said with a chuckle, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the compliment.”  
  
Chromia rolled her optics but refrained from commenting further as the two left. Sitting herself down again she resumed her musing, however with a larger part of her processing power directed at her sensors than before, especially keeping tabs on the Con’s cell. Not surprisingly the mech was standing just inside the bars, scrutinising her through his red visor.  
  
“So, you are Chromia,” he suddenly said and the Autobot femme mentally sighed. Of course it had to be one of _those_. She resisted the urge to glare at the mech and said nothing, knowing well enough that any kind of response on her part was more likely to encourage than deter the goading he was undoubtedly about to embark on.  
  
However, his next words did not follow the usual “I’ve heard some fun stuff about you” line she had expected.  
  
Instead they shocked Chromia to the very core of her spark.  
  
“It’s an honour to finally meet you in person… carrier.”  
  
END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks. Thanks for staying with me all this way.
> 
>  
> 
> _(And just so you know, he is a canon character. *insert wicked grin here*)_


End file.
